The Black Heart
by helenamarkos
Summary: Even the blackest heart has a home somewhere...
1. Isengard's Welcome

**The Black Heart**

**Chapter One: Isengard's Welcome**

**AN: **The characters in this story are mentioned in my longer tale, _Splint. _ However, I don't think you need to read that story to keep up with this one. Also, this is not _Splint_, in that, this is not a long story, and will be done in a few chapters.

**Warning: **This story contains mature themes, including sex and violence as well as swearing. It also contains orcs, and lots of them, which would explain all of the previously mentioned. You're warned!

**Disclaimer:** Middle Earth, Saruman belongs to J. R. R. Tolkien, but I do have a good time playing with them. Other characters, including the incidentals of this story, belong to me. No monetary nothing is gained from this endeavor, and if Tolkien saw what I was doing to his world, he might (i.e. he definitely _would_) hate me for it...

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The tower of Isengard was a great, white spire rising out of the lush forest of Fangorn like a shining pike reaching to the heavens. A wall encircled the tower, separating the primly manicured grounds from the dark wood that surrounded it. Approaching this intimidating monolith from the wide road through the forest was a motley group of fifty hard souls. They were Dunland men, lured by great promises of gold for what seemed like a fairly easy task, if one had the stomach to face it. They were all grim mouthed and hard eyed beneath their shaggy beards and furs, a faint whiff of liquor on them to steel the nerves. All except one, a black haired man with a crooked nose and a wild glint in his sharp blue eyes. He picked up the rear, whistling to himself as he rested his head back on his laced fingers, enjoying the fine, clean wind on his face.

They had, all of them, discussed on their journey here why they had chosen to embark on this trek, as if their presence demanded an explanation. Almost all had come for the money, but for various reasons. Most were stout fellows intent on helping their tribe through a difficult winter, some were chiefs with the same matter on their mind. A good number were outlaws or green eyed lads, interested in money alone and an easy life after this odd affair, for if the Wizard made true on what he was offering, they would not have to work another day in their life.

"And what of you, friend," A serious man with red hair asked the dark haired man with the crooked nose. He had not pitched into the conversation, and they were all of them curious as to why he started chuckling.

"I'm innit for the cunt," he said with an easy grin, and licked his yellow teeth salaciously. The whole group went silent, paling at his words. There were anxious, unsure chuckles at the crude joke. They all avoided him afterwards.

Geth was amused by their disquiet. A wholly stuffy nosed bunch, the lot of them! Still, he considered himself fortunate to fall into such an easy job. His face had become too well known in Hollin, and once the lads in Tharbad found the round young thing he'd left in pieces by the river, they would be looking for him. If he hadn't happened upon the three thieves that had led him to this group, he would have had to face another stint in the mountains. Geth had no issue with the goblins there; a right friendly lot once you got to know them, with a fine sense of humor, but he imagined Lorbuz might be a bit miffed after the sordid affair Geth had with his sister, Grez. She was a nice enough girl, but too skinny for his tastes and too loud mouthed for his temperament. Still, his todger needed a dip, and Geth hadn't found a better lay than an orc woman. Those girls knew how to show a fellow a good time.

The main hall of Isengard was a large, vaulted room with a dark, foreboding air about it. The gloom inside was cut by shafts of gold light from high windows that illuminated specs of dust and pollen. A wide staircase on the far end of the hall rose up to a balcony. A gaunt, pale man dressed completely in black stood at the top of the stair. He might have been considered darkly handsome of not for the dubious air about him and the marked shrewdness in his grey eyes. The corners of his mouth curled with a knowing grin at the pack of men gathered in the auspicious foyer of Isengard. One of the older Dunlendings, a tall, broad, grey haired chief stepped forward, eying the pale gentleman suspiciously.

"You aren't the White One," the chief said, annoyed. "The Wizard calls us here on business and can't be bothered to greet us, eh?"

"The Master will be with you shortly," the pale man assured them, gesturing grandly. "Please, follow me. Accommodations have been made for your stay here."

The group of Dunland men glanced about, unsure. "Who're you, then?" another man asked.

"Thegn," the pale man said with a mocking bow. "Your humble servant, good man, and loyal hand to our goodly Master. Now, please, allow me to escort you to the dining hall. After all," Thegn added with a crude smirk, "you men must keep up your strength for what is to come."

There was an uncomfortable clearing of throats and nervous glancing about before the Dunland men followed Thegn up the stairs and through the winding, circular hallways to another impossibly large, vaulted room with wide, open windows overlooking the neatly manicured lawns below. The better portion of the room was filled with an opulent, redwood table. It was piled with food and tankards of ale and carafes of wine. A place was set for each man present; a mysterious occurrence, since they had not announced their number before they arrived. Thegn ushered the men inside, and, once they were sitting and helping themselves and chatting amiably, shut the arched, gilded doors behind them.

What a spread! Geth dug into the piles of roasted fowl and potatoes with hearty abandon. His compatriots were a loosening up with a few mugs of ale. Laughing and joking and putting their minds at ease, but Geth left his mead mostly untouched. After all, he had a long night ahead of him. Better to save his thirst for later. The conversation at the table was mostly innocuous, and steered clear of their reason for being in Isengard.

Mostly, the men discussed their hate for the Rohirrim and the Wizard's promise to see them reinstated to their ancestral land. Even the rougher blokes in the group fell in with this topic. Geth scoffed to himself. He was a Dunlander by birth, but had not associated himself with that land since he was a small lad, displaced by straw headed soldiers. What remained of his kin went north, driven out of Dunland by tribes already scraping by. Geth had no loyalty to any country or people, and had lived on his own feet, by his own wits, since he was old enough to leave the miserable hut of his drunken, hard fisted father.

The men at the table were roaring, their duty here mostly forgotten in their beer. Geth used a small, fowl rib bone to pick at his teeth, leaning back in his chair comfortably as he listened to them jabbering on around him. He wondered how long they would be kept here waiting. Though he had to appreciate the subtlety with which the Wizard worked. The idiots around him had mostly forgotten their unease all together, and a few even made randy jokes, laughing bravely, as though they were sitting in the waiting room of a brothel. Geth smiled toothily at that thought, rolling the bone on his tongue before spitting it onto the stone floor.

"Gentlemen," a sonorous voice broke the conversation. The men assembled turned towards the door, where a tall, elderly man stood, clothed in the whitest robes Geth had ever seen. Beneath his long, white beard and bushy brows, his sharp blue eyes were knowing and serious. "I am pleased to see you all are in good spirits," continued the Wizard, for Geth imagined could be no one else. "Rest assured, your efforts will aid in bringing about the downfall of the wretched Men of Rohan."

There was a general, rumbling approval among the Dundelings. The Wizard smirked subtly, his long, bony fingers steepled at his waist. "The progeny you beget here will tear asunder the very heart of Rohan," the Wizard told them with a well rehearsed flair. "They will reap such vengeance upon your foes, that the horse men will have no choice but submit, and you will know it is Dunland folk that strike down your enemy."

There was a round of noble nods and fierce eyes that burned for reprisal for what was lost to their forefathers. Geth smiled and shook his head. It was a fine tactic, to rouse men with thoughts of glory, and he had to appreciate the cunning of the old man standing at the door. These lads might have had a mind to back out last minute, but now there was honor and fealty at stake, and leaving would seem like treachery to their own people. Geth, who had never bothered with honor or fealty, stood with the rest of them, eager for a pleasurable night and a heap of gold at the end of it. A little of that coin might go to Lorbuz and Grez to buy their easy forgiveness. At least then Geth might have a safe place to winter and a little highway robbery besides, if Lorbuz was of a mind to cut him in again.

A pair of goblins, their rough skin mottled shades of gray and black, waddled in behind the Wizard, and the Dunland men shuffled anxiously to see them. "My servants will see to the preparations," the Wizard said gesturing to the orcs, who bobbed their heads obligingly. With a final, dire nod to the men gathered, Saruman the White swept grandly out of the room.

"Hurry on den," one of the goblins rumbled, waving the men along. Hie was a stout, tiny fellow in a ratty, brown tunic, with long arms and blood red eyes and a little dollop of thinning, black hair in the center of his skull.

"Don't wassste our time, _sha_!" the other goblin hissed, annoyed, as she picked up the rear. She was wearing a loose, baggy dress tied at her thick waist, her matted hair pulled back in a rough piece of twine. The she orc's long, wiry arms shooed them along, and her wide hand shot out and slapped Geth hard on the thigh, urging him to pick up the pace.

"Now, now, my lovely," Geth said with a cheerful, toothy smile as he rubbed the sting she left him appraisingly, "no need to rough me up."

The she orc regarded him curiously, her bright, green eyes running up and down his form as she walked behind him. She huffed loudly through her hooked nose, fogging the metal ring that hung between her slitted nostrils. Her pointed ears pinned back as she narrowed her eyes. "Spent some time 'round my folk, eh?" she queried, her voice sharp and hissing.

Geth looked ahead at the stiff cadence of the men in front of him, their bearing wholly uncomfortable as they descended the dark stairway after the male goblin. They had gone completely silent, like a line of grim faced soldiers going into battle. A few were peering over their shoulders at him, confused by his easy manner. Geth turned back to the female behind him and grinned charmingly. "Obvious, is it?"

She smirked, open mouthed, and ran her long, red tongue along the sides of her molars. "Just a fuckin' bit," she snickered.

The orcs led them down flight after flight of stairs, until they came to a heavy wood door that led into a long, stone hallway. The male orcs led them to a long, narrow room with two dozen large wash basins set up inside. "Ge' in der an' clean yer stink off," he growled. "Yuh'll piss off duh girls smeliin' like yuh do, an' yuh don't want _dem_ girls piss'd off atcha."

The men silently filed in and stripped, washing down with the pine scented water. Geth scrubbed himself with a quick vigor, pleased to have a bath after a long stretch without. The water was pleasantly warm, and the cloths had a light texture to them, which helped scrape the dirt and sweat off. He was quickly cleaned, with extra time spent around his balls, and changed into a fresh pair of breeches provided by his hosts. They even supplied a number of wooden picks to sort the knots in his hair out. Geth was the first one out of the washroom, feeling spiffier than he had in a good long while.

The male goblin snorted at him as he emerged from the room with a spring in his step. The orc had a ledger in his hands now, and he looked Geth over before setting the small piece of graphite to the pages. "Give us yer name, den."

"Geth," he supplied with a little bow.

"Age?" the goblin asked as he scrawled in the ledger, his tongue caught between his lips.

Geth paused at that, wrinkling his nose. "_Hurr_," the man grumbled. "Twenty and six, there abouts."

Nodding, the goblin made more hasty marks as another man stepped up behind Geth. The female orc came up alongside her comrade, looking over his shoulder as he scrawled in the book. "_Nar, nar_," she hissed. "Don' put 'im there. Have 'im in with Bidush. Poor girl could use a lad that'll appreciate 'er."

The goblin male gave the female a shrewd look, but scribbled over whatever he was writing to make a correction. "Fine den," he grumbled. "You go off wit' Dezek, 'ere." The goblin thrust his thumb at the female by his side, and Geth grinned as he followed her down the hallway, through a door and down several dozen more stairs. Geth could hear the muffled sound of construction going on behind the stone walls, but he didn't bother to ask what all the noise was about.

Dezek led him into another long hallway. There were rows of doors with heavy, metal bolts on either side of the long passage. The she orc unbolted a door about halfway down and paused to regard Geth seriously. "You give 'er a good time, now," Dezek said sternly. "She ain't never had a fella what could stand the sight a her, but I'm bettin' you know how ta treat a lady." The orcess grinned lewdly at him, her needle sharp teeth flashing in her dark face, and Geth returned the expression.

"I'm in a mind to remedy that," he assured her.

Snorting, Dezek ushered him inside. "Have a good time, lad," she snickered, and bolted the door behind him.

Geth gaped at the large female orc before him. His only dealings were with the smaller goblins of the Misty Mountains, and the largest of them barely reached his collar bone, but this she orc was easily a head taller than him and twice as wide in the shoulders. She was sitting, half facing away from him on a fluffy pile of straw, her long, thick arms wrapped around her crossed legs. When she heard him enter, she looked at him with large, red eyes. Her thick hair grew in a row down the center of her skull and half covered her giant, wide face.

Really, Geth was less impressed with her countenance, though it was pleasantly smooth and young looking despite her coarse, slanted features and large fangs, and more interested in her thick waist, wide, fleshy hips and plump rear. He had always been fond of a round arse, and this she orc had all he could want and then some. Her breasts were a sight to behold, heavy and round and easily the size of his head. He could build a cottage and live on her tits. Best of all, she was completely naked, stripped for his benefit, he imagined. A slow, pleased smile crept over his lips at the expanse of sable flesh before him, marred only on her muscular back by a few thick, silver scars obviously caused by a lash. Geth frowned at that. What a disgrace, to whip something so fine looking.

The she orc swallowed roughly and rolled to her knees, facing the wall as she exposed herself to him. His mouth went dry at the sight of her red, swollen folds, and he felt his arousal rise in ernest. The orcess rested her head on her arms with a long suffering sigh and squeezed her eyes shut.

Bidush had come to Isengard with her mother when she was still very small, answering the call of their master with a few hundred other females from the tribes in Angmar. Too young to whelp, she had been separated from the breeding females and kept in a den with the other young girls for several years. That had been as close to happy as she had ever been here, playing with the other girls, eating her fill and singing rough songs in their own tongue. She missed being up top, running free under the night sky, but her service to The Shadow had not seemed so terrible when she was surrounded by her sisters.

The moment she was able to breed, she was separated from the younger girls and brought to a small cell; the same cell she inhabited now. Bidush had been sad and lonely, but she knew also this was the work expected of her. Dezek would come and keep her company often. Since her caretakers had been local goblins, Bidush's Common was better than the older she orcs brought here, and she had an easier time speaking with the _snaga_ than her mother's generation. The males of her kind went up to fight and hunt, and she didn't feel like she could complain, considering how well fed and pampered she was. Besides, she enjoyed feeling her whelps grow. Letting them go was hard, but that was expected of her too, so she endured it with as much grace as she could. Nursing orcesses could not breed, and Bidush knew she had to breed. That's what the Shadow needed her for, and that's what she would do. The only thing she couldn't stomach was the breeding itself.

It wasn't that she found the men brought to her all that repulsive. They were strange, hairy things, but not foul looking in any particular way. She might even considered them adorable, like large flat faced badgers, if not for their obvious disgust with her. Bidush had whelped eight times since she was brought to her cell, two for every year. The first time had been the worst. It was painful and uncomfortable and though Dezek had warned her of the pain, it did nothing to aid her when that first man thrust into her. He had been quick, and while her heat ensured that she was slick enough to receive him, he did nothing to make the experience even remotely tolerable. When he withdrew from her and caught sight of her blood on him, he had screamed in horror and vomited before pounding on the door to her cell to be let out. The man left that same night, and her Master ordered her whipped for loosing him a willing male. Dezek had patted her shoulder and spoke soothing words as she later salved Bidush's wounds, but the goblin's assurances did nothing to assuage the utter humiliation Bidush had felt.

The men that followed had been better, but not by much. They looked at her with such revulsion, it made her want to shrivel and die. She didn't even bother to meet their gaze now, assuming the required position and closing her eves to their disgust. She did her best to remain quiet while they finished, since the one time she had begun to enjoy the act itself, the man with her had yelled at her to be silent. She would think of the little one that would soon be growing inside her and the important work she was doing for her Master, and she would ignore the sick feeling of their spilt seed running down her leg. Bidush always scrubbed herself twice as hard when a man was breeding her.

She assumed this man to be no different from the rest of them, so when he did not get right down to what he should be doing, she expected the worst, and hoped he wouldn't leave and tell her master. Then, there was a rustling behind her, and the man grunted. Hazarding a glance, Bidush saw that he had removed his breeches, which he now folded and laid over his boots. He was a wiry fellow, despite his broad shoulders. When he turned towards her again, Bidush was a little surprised to see he was already impressively aroused, but she dismissed that immediately. A few of the men had prepared themselves before breeding her.

Tucking her head into her arms, she readied herself for the brief, embarrassing encounter she knew was coming. Instead of the quick thrusting she expected, the man lad his palm on her rear, running his hand down the crease of her buttocks to rub her exposed folds. Two, calloused fingers pumped into her with languid slowness as the man stroked her back, grunting out an appreciative groan.

"You've got a lovely cunny, my duck," the man purred as his fingers pressed against a particularly sensitive area inside her. Bidush stifled a pleased moan, afraid that he would stop what he was doing.

He was pulling her to sit up, and Bidush dazedly allowed it, unsure of what to do. When he sat himself in her lap she was completely baffled. Then, his hot mouth was on her breast, his teeth lightly grazing her nipple as he massaged her with both hands. It felt wonderful, but Bidush was fearful he was doing this wrong. She would be in a bad way if no whelp came from her.

She grabbed the man by the shoulders, her large hands enveloping his biceps, and pulled him off of her. "What you doing?" she growled suspiciously. "I have no sprog, I have trouble!"

The man smiled broadly at her, and Bidush felt her anger soften. "No need to rush, my sweet," he said with a flash of blunt, yellow teeth. "We've got all night. Now, why don't you let Geth do you proper?"

Blinking, Bidush released Geth, who went immediately to her other breast, kneading and sucking until she had fallen back onto the hay, gasping. His hands were all over her, pinching and caressing and slapping her flanks. By the time he finally entered her, she had already shuddered with a climax, and her second came not long after he began thrusting with wild abandon. Bidush rocked her head from side to side, moaning with pleasure. Her heat heightened all of her senses, intensifying every stroke inside her, every subtle twist he made with his hips, and Bidush found her own hips thrusting to meet his, urging him on. Another orgasm rippled through her when she felt him stiffen. Geth clutched her to himself with surprising strength, practically roared as he came, and collapsed on her, spent completely. Bidush panted, feeling the soft puffs of Geth breathing against her breast. His hand kneaded the flesh at her hip as he softened and slid out of her, and Bidush found she didn't mind the post coital messiness she usually despised. Feeling more contented than she ever remembered being, Bidush encircled Geth in her arms, cuddling him close with a pleased coo. What a man!

Geth pulled himself up her body and kissed her wetly on the mouth, squeezing her bountiful, dark breast appreciatively. "You give me a minute, heart," he said huskily, "and we'll have another round."

Bidush's heavy brow shot up in surprise. "Again?" she asked, amazed. No man had ever wanted her more than was strictly necessary. Then again, none of the males brought to breed with her had ever made her feel like this one did.

"Didn't you enjoy yourself?" Geth asked her with a crestfallen expression. Bidush nodded fervently, and he smiled wide at her. "Then you give me a minute," he told her, "and we'll have some more fun, you and me. How's that sound, my duck?"

Biting her lip, Bidush nodded again, returning his smile. Geth had her more than twice. By the time he mounted her for the fourth time, Bidush decided she never wanted him to leave. Any man brought to her after this one would pale in comparison. Finally, neither of them could go on any longer. Instead of pounding on the door to leave, Geth pulled the large fur blanket piled up in the corner over them both. Bidush rolled on her side, clutching him to her chest with her large, thick arms.

The clacking sound of the bolt turning brought Geth to wakefulness. Dezek's dark head peeked in, her brow furrowed. Geth couldn't decide if she looked surprised or annoyed. Perhaps she was both. "Fergot you were in here," she said. "Yer folk usually bang on the door to get out."

Smiling, Geth shrugged easily.

"Well," Dezek said, unsure, "Master had a room fer you fellas made up, if ya want it."

Geth looked over at Bidush's peaceful, sleeping face, and brushed some of her messy hair out of her eyes. He had really worn her out. The straw bedding was comfortable enough, by Geth's standards, her arm was still draped over him possessively, and Geth would rather sleep next to a warm body than not. "I'm fine where I am," he said, grinning.

Shaking her head, Dezek grinned back. "Arright," she said with a chuckle. "I'll get ya out at breakfast then."

Geth closed his eyes as the bolt clanked shut, a pleased smile on his face.

* * *

**Note**: _Thegn_ is adapted from _þegn_, an old english word that means "follower or vassal of a great man." The office of Saruman's vassal is later held by Grima, with promises of Lady Éowyn .


	2. Arrangements

**The Black Heart**

**Chapter Two: Arrangements**

_"Nan always said he had an orc's black heart," the orcess said and the corners of her mouth turned up in a mysterious little smile. "None a the other Dunland men stuck around with the orc girls they 'ad kids with. They took the gold Sharky gave 'em and buggered off, but not my granddad. He were always happier wit' orcs 'n he were wit' men."_

_-Splint, Doors_

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Stretching lazily, Geth became aware of a warm softness surrounding him. Opening his eyes, he realized Bidush had rolled onto her back in her sleep and gathered him against her. His head was pillowed on one of her voluminous breasts while her long, thick forearm cradled him against her side. She was still asleep, her fanged mouth open while she snored quietly. Trapped for the moment between her strong arm and the length of her body, Geth laid his head back down on her, enjoying the pleasant, subtle odor of her skin. It was almost spicy, with a slight, sweet musk to it.

Smacking her lips, Bidush yawned and blinked awake slowly, her red eyes droopy. Grinning, Geth kissed her breast and lightly squeezed her hip. "Mind letting me up, heart?" he asked lightly. "I need to use the pot in the corner." Bidush, suddenly wide awake, looked at him as though amazed that he was still present. She nodded slowly and released him. Geth rolled to his feet easily and hurried to the chamber pot a few feet away, sighing as he relieved himself. After a few, quick shakes, Geth turned back to the orcess. Bidush had sat up, and was sitting cross legged looking at him curiously, her head cocked to the side.

She had no idea what to do. Bidush had not expected him to sleep through the night with her. Now, he was staring with a lustful gleam in his eye, approaching her slowly. A little shiver of want ran through her when he licked his lips. "Another for the road?" he said as he pushed her gently onto her back.

Bidush's heat was not completely over, though she doubted he had failed to plant a seed in her. An orcess in heat didn't need much from a male to get pregnant, and Bidush had never failed to whelp, even when the men who bred her were brief and quick to leave, but this man made her body sing in a way she had never known. Before he could go roaming, Bidush pulled him against her chest, nuzzling his furry neck with a throaty purr. She would have nipped his chin appreciatively, if she knew where to find it. What a hairy creature he was!

Geth ran his fingers along her pointed, suede soft ear. "I'll take that as a yes," he beamed.

Huffing with amusement, she smiled against his shoulder. "_Akh_, _arauizub,_" she growled huskily as she petted his coarse, dark head.

Snorting, Geth ground his growing erection against her hip. "I'm your bear, am I?" he chuckled.

Bidush blinked, impressed that he knew her tongue. Smiling rakishly, she gripped his buttock in her strong hand, feeling him grow harder against her. "_Arau madh_," she grinned.

Frowning, Geth faltered a bit. "I don't know _madh_, heart," he admitted.

"Big," Bidush giggled. "Big bear for Bidush."

Geth barked out a laugh and kissed her cheek roughly. "Your language is a little different from the mountain folk up north," he told her. "You'll have to teach me it, sometime."

Frowning, Bidush turned away from him to stare up at the stony ceiling. The little light there was in her cell filtered in from a grate at the corner. "No teach," Bidush said sadly. "Geth leave, no come back."

"Now, now," he said as he rubbed slow circles on her belly. "Don't say that. You can bet I'll be back if they let me."

Bidush regarded him, hopeful, though she knew better than to anticipate such a thing. Smiling softly, she decided to push his departure out of her mind. After all, Dezek could be by any minute to drag him out. "No talk," she said, pulling him against her again.

"As you wish," Geth conceded, nudging her knees apart. He pressed into her slowly, enjoying the soft, mewling sounds she made as he buried himself deeply. She gripped him like a hot fist, and Geth had to concentrate hard so he didn't finish too quickly. He wanted to enjoy what very well might be his last time with this enticing woman. Though, he meant what he told her. If he could find a way to have her again, he most definitely would.

He finished with a hoarse shout just as the bolt on the door clicked open. Dezek stuck her head in, and Geth smirked at her. "You have good timing," he said breathlessly as he slid out of Bidush. He extended his hand to the orcess and gently pulled her to sit up. Then, he stood and grabbed his breeches from the corner. Bidush followed his movements with glazed eyes, still gasping from her own climax.

"Hurry up," Dezek hissed, a little put off by his easy bearing. The men she'd dealt with had always been quick to cover themselves around her, and she had definitely never found them still inside a girl, but this Geth acted as though her presence meant nothing.

He laced his breeches in short order and picked up his boots in one hand. Kneeling at Bidush's side, Geth embraced her thick neck and pressed a quick, gentle kiss to her cheek. "Thank you for a lovely night, heart," he told her before striding out the door barefoot.

Dezek's gaze followed the man out before settling back on a sheepish Bidush. "Well?" Dezek asked without asking, her brow raised. Rubbing the bridge of her nose with a small, pleased smile, Bidush sighed wistfully and nodded. "Good fer you," the gobliness whispered with a gentle grin, shutting the door and bolting it behind her.

Dezek regarded Geth quietly as he pulled on his boots, half leaning against the stone wall. "I'm runnin' late t'day," she said, striding past him. "Move yer arse. Them other fuckers what come with ya are up in the dinin' hall already. If the Master finds out I let ya sleep down 'ere, I'll have the whip fer it."

She could hear Geth running to catch up to her. "Well," he said as he fell into a brisk pace behind her, "we will do our best to avoid that."

"Here," Dezek said, tossing a bundle of rolled up furs at him. "Grabbed yer shit fer ya." Geth nodded and began to put on his many layers of furs. His large, conical mace was wrapped up in his clothes. Geth dressed as they climbed the stairs, throwing the strap of his weapon over his shoulder before putting on his furry stole.

Dezek was quietly impressed with him. He had a sweet tongue, and that was always something to be wary of, but he had an ease around orcs that made her curious. "You lived wit' a tribe before, didn't ya?" she asked him suddenly as they arrived at a long hallway.

"I did, indeed," he confirmed without hesitation.

Dezek nodded, but narrowed here eyes cautiously. "Where at?" she queried. "I ain't heard a no man livin' wit' no tribe 'round here."

"Not around here," Geth clarified. "I fell in with some lads up north. Have you heard of an orc named Lorbuz?" Dezek shook her head. "Well," Geth continued as they ascended another flight of stairs, "I had the good fortune of doing a few jobs with him and his lads." He smiled roguishly at that, and Dezek returned the smile. She knew very well what orcish "jobs" consisted of. "I wintered with them that same year and ended up staying for two years besides," Geth told her. "A nice lot, but I had a falling out with Lorbuz's sister, so I haven't been back to see them in a long while."

"A fallin' out eh?" Dezek snorted. "What'd she get too clingy on ya? Started askin' ya fer sprogs?"

Geth frowned thoughtfully, chewing on his lip. "The opposite, actually," he said quietly, and his voice was bereft of the light, carefree tone Dezek had begun to associate with him.

"Got rid a it on ya, did she?" Dezek guessed.

Geth nodded subtly, his face grim as he stared ahead. "It was quite an argument," he whispered under his breath, but Dezek heard him anyway. Geth smiled brightly at her, shedding the somber air that had suddenly settled on him. "I'm better off," he said casually. "She and I fought most of the time, anyway, and what a skinny bint! All bones." He chuckled at that and Dezek chuckled with him, though she really didn't find what he'd been through all that funny.

The other Dunland men were still in the dining hall, staring listlessly at their breakfast. Dezek left Geth at the door, and he whistled merrily as he strode to his seat. Piling up his plate, Geth dug into the sunny eggs and salted ham and roasted potatoes with ravenous vigor. "Quite a night, eh lads?" he grinned. The rest of the men stared at him, dumbfounded. Their plates remained untouched, and one or two looked like they may be ill.

The gilded doors opened and the White Wizard glided in with his sallow faced servant hurrying behind him with a large box in his hands. Saruman surveyed the dark eyed men at his table somberly. "I am sure you are all eager to be on your way," he said evenly. "You may take your payment when you are ready." Saruman gestured towards Thegn, who began pulling tightly wrapped packages of gold from the wooden box. Almost every man at the table stood immediately, they filed out the door, taking their gold with them.

Thegn found himself holding a spare package, and Saruman glanced from the gold in his servant's hand to the man sitting at the far end of the table. The dark haired Dunlander was chewing noisily. He turned towards Saruman, lifting a large hunk of meat spitted on a fork in the air. "Hope you don't mind if I finish up breakfast," he said cheerily.

"Not at all," the Wizard said, narrowing his eyes. Saruman snatched the package from Thegn's hand and jerked his head towards the door as he glared at his servant. Thegn cowered and retreated from the room, shutting the door behind him.

Keeping his eyes on his plate, Geth was aware of the Wizard rounding the table. The old man sat at the head seat to his left, placing the white paper package next to him with a metallic _clunk_. Geth chewed thoughtfully, eyeing up the frail looking geezer. Saruman was regarding him in kind, his long, bony fingers folded in front of him. Geth prided himself on a quick appraisal of most people, but he couldn't quite get a bead on this straight faced gentleman. All Geth knew was that the Wizard had a lot of control over the orcs in his charge. They had been organized and categorized into systematic roles in a way that Geth had never come across before. They operated more like a factory than a tribe. Then, there was the matter of his sweet Bidush, obviously foreign to this area. Geth wondered how the Wizard could call together a variety of orcs without any bloodshed happening besides. Even orc tribes within the same region weren't likely to get along.

Swallowing his mouthful, Geth looked from the package to the Wizard, running his tongue along his teeth. "Having a chat are we?" Geth asked. A mild thread of concern ran through him. Now that the Wizard was so close, Geth could sense the dubious austerity about him, and Geth wondered if the geezer could guess that he hadn't exactly followed the rules the night before. He hoped Dezek wouldn't catch trouble for it. Geth was starting to like her.

A cold, tingling feeling crept up Geth's neck, and the man scowled at the Wizard, but said nothing. Saruman smiled cooly. "I could use the services of a man such as yourself," he said.

"Is that so," Geth pursed his lips, somewhat intrigued.

"I am looking to require some women for my... program," the Wizard explained. "I have a few here already, but they fade more quickly than their orc counterparts, and I am afraid I am not well versed in the proper channels for such things." A bushy white brow rise in amusement as Saruman regarded the outlaw in front of him. "However, you seem just the type to help me with such an endeavor."

Geth leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. Trading in women was risky business, but it was business he had done in the past. He knew quite a few blokes who could help him out. "What's the pay?"

Saruman told him, and Geth's brows rose into his forehead. "And you're having trouble finding lads to help?" he said, a little amazed. "That's more than what a girl will usually go for."

"I have requirements," Saruman said, raising a long finger into the air. "They must be on the taller side with broad hips, well fed and in good physical condition, and it is useful if they are of prime childbearing age."

"You're looking for dams," Geth said cooly. "Are you mixing them with orc men, like you are mixing orc women with my folk?"

Chuckling, Saruman leaned back in his chair and folded his hands primly in his lap. "There are certain advantages to both mixes," he said vaguely. "Does this bother you?"

Geth really didn't care either way what this old bastard did with a crop of women, but it made him curious as to what exactly was going on under the green grounds of Isengard. Still, it was quite a price per head, more than double what was usual. Geth wondered if he might negotiate a slightly different deal. "I'll take half of what you offer," he told Saruman, "if you could provide me with safe harbor for the cold season." If he had somewhere to go, Geth wouldn't have to go crawling back to Lorbuz and his tribe. He wasn't sure he wanted to face Grez again, not after what she put him through, and it seemed as though he would be having quite a bit of fun here.

"Among the orcs," Saruman said with an air of distaste.

Geth grinned charmingly. "I'm accustomed to them."

Resting his chin on his hand, Saruman narrowed his eyes reprovingly. "Yes," he said at length, "I can see how you would fit right in with them." A quiet moment passed between Wizard and outlaw in which Geth had the eerie feeling that Saruman could see every dark nook of his soul. "Very well," Saruman said, raising slowly. "I will see that you have accommodations here. I don't have to tell you that secrecy in this matter is of the upmost importance." Saruman cast a poignant look at Geth.

"Of course," Geth said with an easy nod.

"Good," was the Wizard's quick reply, "because if you are captured or are followed, you will have a miserable end for it." Saruman fixed Geth with a cold, baleful stare. "Do not think," the Wizard said darkly, "that you can escape my wrath."

Geth swallowed nervously and nodded again. "I understand," he said hastily, feeling thrown off his stride a bit. This frail looking man was not something to be trifled with; this Geth was absolutely certain of.

Saruman grinned at him, toothy and white and far creepier than Geth would have liked. "Very good," he said. "If you require weapons or provisions, Dezek will assist you." Geth realized that the gobliness had appeared suddenly at the door, panting as if she had run the whole way and wringing her hands anxiously. "Consider him your guide while you are here." Saruman swept grandly from the room, leaving Geth alone with Dezek.

"Him?" Geth asked her, raising a brow.

Sighing wearily, the orcess walked up to his side and hopped up on a seat next to him with a tired grunt. "He don' fuckin' care to bother an' learn the difference," she said, annoyed. "He's the Master," she said with a meaningful look in Geth's direction. "He don' _have_ ta give a care 'bout any a us. We do what 'e says an' he don' get 'is hands dirty, know what I'm sayin'?"

Geth nodded. "I have a fairly good idea," he said. "Still, with a fetching thing like yourself it should be obvious."

Snorting, Dezek swatted at his arm. "_Sha, _jus' finish yer breakfast an' let me get ya what ya need. I got enough shit ta do t'day without lookin' after some arsehole."

Geth chuckled and rose from his seat. "I'm ready to go now," he told her. "Unless you would like some breakfast as well?"

Dezek looked tempted, but she shook her head. "_Nar_," she hissed. "It'll be my arse if I'm caught lazin' off." The little goblin hopped down from the seat and put her hands on her hips as she stared up at Geth. "So," she said sharply, "what do ya need?"

A wide smile bloomed across Geth's face. "Let's see the armory," he said brightly.

* * *

Isengard's forge was a large room with a low ceiling that opened up on one side to a great cavern being excavated by hundreds of smaller orcs. The air was hot and heavy and the room was lit by the bright red fires in the furnaces along the far wall. Several dozen goblins of various sizes were hammering out long pipes, or pouring liquid hot metal into moulds for beams. There were some swords being fashioned, but for the most part, they were making building materials. Dezek led him through this room to an adjacent nook where a larger goblin was hunched over a paper strewn desk. He was crouched on a tall stool, his rodent-like feet gripping the seat as he poured over the large sheet of paper in front of him. Strait edges and compasses and a number of other measuring instruments Geth did not recognize were peppered over the table. The orc was making notes with neat, angular marks on what looked like extensively revised blueprints.

As Geth and Dezek approached the orc, Geth realized he looked nothing like the local goblins. His skin was an even black, scarred extensively with wielding silver scars and raised bite marks, but lacking the mottled patterns of Dezek and her comrades. The orc's face was rounder than the angular faces of the Misty Mountain folk, giving him a younger look, despite the fact that his eyes were creased with lines. Geth would guess him about middle age.

"Oi, Gijakzi," Dezek called to him anxiously, though she didn't approach him. Geth made a mental note of that. It meant this goblin held some authority, or at least, more authority that Dezek. "Gijakzi," Dezek hissed again when he didn't bother to look up at them.

"Wot," the orc growled in a gravely voice as he reached his long arm across the table to dip his pen. He was a wiry fellow, but his arms were cut with hard muscle, and Geth imagined he was much stronger than he looked.

"Master wants this lad looked after," Dezek said, thrusting her thumb at Geth.

Gijakzi still did not look up at them, and continued to make neat, tiny notes. "I don't got no time ta deal with fucking _tarks_," Gijakzi said.

"Then I am fortunate that I am a _shara,_" Geth said casually to the goblin's back.

Gijakzi looked up at him then, his bright yellow eyes flashing as he wrinkled his wide, flat nose. A long, white bone was poked through the space between his wide nostrils, and it tilted as the goblin sneered at Geth, bearing his sharp, narrow teeth and black gums. "Yer all _tarks_ ta me," he said menacingly.

A little taken aback, Geth kept calm. He had never met a goblin this hostile for no reason, skeptical and foul tempered and prone to rages definitely, but not with the murderous pinpricks Geth saw in Gijakzi's eyes. Normally, the folk he had dealt with were more than happy to let a lad join them, as long as he was up for the type of escapades orcs were prone to. This orc looked at him as though he had elvish ancestry. "I don't intend to take up much of your time," Geth assured him evenly, dropping his normal, placating tone.

"Yuh already took up too much a it," Gijakzi growled and swung deftly from his seat to the floor. Standing tall, the smith came to Geth's chin and his shoulders were easily broader. "Tell me what yuh want an' get the fuck outta here."

"A long knife," Geth said quickly, very aware of the malice radiating off of this orc, "and a good, long length of chain, and manacles, of you have any to spare."

Grumbling under his breath, Gijakzi snatched the lantern on his worktable and walked to a wide door on the wall nearby. The orc seemed to favor using his arms as he walked, which made his movements more graceful than the waddling, bipedal way of walking Dezek used. Most orcs were more comfortable on all fours, their longer arms made moving about in such a way easier, but many affected a loping more manlike way of walking, forcing their bowed legs to hold them upright, unless they had to move quickly. Geth always wondered at this, though he had never bothered to ask why. Gijakzi, at least, did not seem prone to this habit, rolling along easily on his knuckles.

Pulling a large ring of jangling keys from his wide belt, Gijakzi unlocked the metal door and slid it heavily to the side. "Knives're along the side wall," he told Geth. "Chain an' irons are in the back. Don' fuck around in there, and pull the door shut when yer done. It'll lock on it's own."

A loud crash sounded from the far end of the forge, and Gijakzi whirled around to glare at a small group of goblins that had dropped a load of copper pipes across the floor and onto several clay molds that were now broken open and leaking molten iron. The goblins cringed with wide eyed terror as Gijakzi approached them, pulling a long whip from his belt as he rose to his full height. "_Stupid fucking mountain bastards!_" Gijakzi roared over the cacophony of the forge. Pulling his arm back, the smith swung the whip with deft practice, slicing several of the goblins across the face with brutal force.

Dezek grabbed Geth by the arm and pulled him into the armory just as Gijakzi grabbed one of his underlings by the scruff and threw him against the wall with a snarl. "Get what ya need an' let's get outta here," she hissed anxiously.

Geth followed her lead and entered the armory, grabbing the lantern Gijakzi had left on the floor. He was quietly impressed with the organized rows of weapons and tools laid out in the large room before him. The armory was just as low ceilinged as the forge, but easily twice as long. Going first to the back, Geth gathered ten pairs of manacles, more than that would have been unnecessary. Traveling with too many women would be starkly obvious and hard to hide. Geth favored frequent, smaller trips that would help him keep his profile low. Grabbing a length of thinner chain, Geth went to where the knives hung on the side wall and picked a long, thin knife from the pile of various blades. Geth nodded to Dezek, who was holding several pairs of manacles and the chain, and they left hastily, shutting the armory door behind them. Geth noticed Gijakzi back at his drafting table when they left, but a good dozen of the goblins in his command were looking roughed up, covered in bloody slashes and fresh bruises, though they were hard at work cleaning up the mess.

"He's not from around here," Geth said to Dezek a good while later, as they climbed the stairs to the surface. She was leading him out the back way, the same way he was meant to bring the girls he caught in.

"Gijakzi?" she asked and Geth nodded. "Yea, he's a Mordor lad, an' a fuckin' arsehole if ya ask me. Thinks he's smarter than all a us, but he were sent up special, an' the Master likes the work 'e does, so we got ta fuckin' deal with 'im. Got a heavy hand," Dezek continued, "but 'e keeps it in the forge. Stays to 'imself otherwise, so I don' really 'ave ta deal wit' 'im much."

"Small mercies," Geth said with a grin.

Dezek snorted. "I guess."

A long, wide ramp led them out into a small clearing in the forest. A subtle trail led through the trees, and Geth realized this was where the supplies to Isengard came from. They were easily miles from the tower, and the spire was no more than a pale streak against the sky. Glancing around to get his bearings, the tower in the East and the pale blue mountains in the West, Geth nodded to Dezek with a grin.

"Well, my dear, tell Bidush I will see her soon," Geth said with a wide grin.

Shaking her head slowly, Dezek regarded him seriously. "That ain't how shit works 'round here," she informed him.

Geth pulled several gold plates from the package in his shoulder bag. Taking Dezek's hand, he placed them in her dry, coarse palm. The orcess blinked at the oval gold pieces. "Then it will be our little secret, won't it, my lovely?"

"Sure," Dezek snorted, still unsure as to what exactly this strange man was up to. If she didn't know better, she would think he was a lad smitten. Then again, maybe he was. Geth knew his way around her people, she would give him that, at least.

With a sharp not and a toothy smile, Geth walked into the dense forest, vanishing into the dark canopy of Fangorn. Dezek watched him go from the shade of the tunnel, an amused look on her face.


	3. Breeders

**The Black Heart**

**Chapter Three: Breeders**

_"You know," [Rukhash] said quietly, "an' it were before I was born, mind ya, but there were more 'n Dunlander men called to Orthanc. There were women too. Nan said she could hear 'em wailin' in their cells. Said she couldn't get why they were bein' so whiny 'bout the work needed ta be done."_

_-Splint, Genealogy_

* * *

Despite the promise Dezek brought to Bidush, a week passed and then a month with no sign of Geth. This did not surprise Bidush, though Dezek's news that he had returned to Isengard on two occasions with women for the pits, did surprise her. He had not stayed long, Dezek said, but his productivity was winning him favor with their master. Bidush quietly hoped that favor would allow him to stay on in some permanent manner, and perhaps he would breed with her again when she was ready.

Her fourth week of pregnancy had brought the stomach churning sickness that she had become accustomed to at this stage. Dezek was twice as busy during this time, seeing to the other females in her charge, and Bidush found that she was lonelier than usual at the goblin's absence. She took to little bouts of exercise in her small cell to keep her mind and her body occupied. If she laid down, Bidush could touch her stretched arms to one end of the cell while her feet rested flat against the opposite wall. The room was slightly less deep than this, so she was not afforded a great deal of space to move around in, but Bidush made the best of what she was given; pacing around the small perimeter, or rolling like a ball from one side to the other or jumping to cling to the grate in the corner, using the tremendous strength in her arms to pull herself up repeatedly. Though she felt a little silly doing this, if she allowed herself to laze about, moping, her joints would start to seize and her hips would hurt, and that pain would only increase as her pregnancy progressed.

It was during one of her stretching exercises that Bidush heard the door to her cell being unbolted, and Bidush quickly stopped what she was doing to sit on her straw bedding, feeling a little embarrassed. Dezek stuck her head in, and Bidush perked up. Usually, a small male goblin brought her food, tossing her plate of meat in and slamming the door behind him, so Dezek must be here for a visit. Bidush cheered at that.

Dezek had a long length of coiled leather strap in one hand, and Bidush immediately paled, thinking she had done something wrong. Looking from the strap to Bidush's distressed expression, Dezek smiled warmly. "Ain't nothin' like that," the goblin assured her. "How you feelin' girl?"

Bidush smiled wanly. "Bidush good," she said. "Not much sick. Only little in morning."

Dezek nodded, pleased. "That's fine, then," she said. "How'd ya like a little fresh air, get outta this stuffy box fer a bit?"

Brightening, Bidush hopped to her feet. Balancing her weight on her curved fingers, she pranced up to the door. "Bidush go out?" she asked excitedly. "Go up top?"

"Not up top," Dezek clarified, and Bidush's face fell a little. "Garn, don't get all glum," Dezek laughed. "You been a real good girl, so I thought you'd like to be the first to see the new spot Katag got fer ya poor bints. Took 'er forever ta get the Wizard to agree to it."

Bidush cocked her head. Katag was the orcish midwife that saw to the females in Isengard. She was a nice little goblin; on the younger side, though not nearly as young as Bidush, with a soft touch and a gentle, rasping voice. Bidush liked Katag, who always seemed concerned for the females in her charge. Oddly, she was the most opposed to the conditions Bidush was kept in, and often griped under her breath when she had to examine Bidush or bring the large orcess the viscous, red potion Saruman required them to drink every night.

"What new spot?" Bidush asked, curious.

"A little place fer ya to run aroun' in fer a while," Dezek told her. "So yer not stuck in this tiny space all the fuckin' time. That sounds nice, don' it?" Bidush nodded emphatically, her eyes bright. It really did sound nice, even if it wasn't up top. Dezek unraveled the leather strap in her hand. It was a collar clipped to a long leash. "You gotta wear this, though," Dezek said sternly. "The Master don't want ya wanderin' around."

Bidush balked a little at the leash in Dezek's hand. She had always behaved herself! Why should she be led around like a beast? The temptation of seeing something besides the four, gray walls of her little prison was too great, though, and Bidush lowered her head so Dezek could slip the collar around her neck, tightening the strap just enough to put on a good show of things.

"I'm sorry, Bidush," Dezek mumbled apologetically as she took the leash in her hand, "but rules is rules."

Dezek lead Bidush down hall after hall and a few flights of stairs, and the larger orcess quietly admitted this was more freedom than she had ever hoped to be allowed since she was penned up in her cell. Bidush walked on her knuckles with a long stride and her wrists held straight, with most of her weight balanced on her thicker middle fingers. It felt good to stretch her shoulders and really _walk_, though she had to slow her pace several times for Dezek, who waddled awkwardly alongside her.

Dezek finally brought her to a large, barred room. Bidush immediately recognized it as the den she was kept in as a child. It was a good size with a high ceiling and handholds in the walls to allow for climbing. It was swept clean, and any remnant smell of the young Angmar females that once occupied it had been cleared away. There were no young females in it now. Instead, Katag was inside, undoing the leash on a female Man. Bidush cocked her head, baffled by her new pen mate.

"_You sure this's the best idea?_" Dezek asked Katag in the tongue common to the mountain orcs of the North, eyeing the light haired woman warily as she lead Bidush inside the den. The woman looked absolutely terrified at the sight of the larger orcess.

"_Skai,_" Katag hissed, her red eyes annoyed. "_Don't tell me how ta do my job. Once they're grown an' breedin', them Angmar girls tear each others throats out just as much as they get along. If we ain't careful to pair blood kin, or clan sisters, we'll end up with dead girls on our hands. An' there ain't enough space fer us ta get ta everyone one at a time._"

Dezek didn't see how putting a _tark_ in with Bidush would be any safer. Looking back at the black skinned giantess, Dezek did have to admit that she was, easily, the gentlest of the orc females that were brought here. How the men that came here weren't brutally maimed, Dezek had no idea, though she imagined her Master had a great deal to do with it.

It was the same with the males of Bidush's kind. Angmar males did not hide their distaste for the service they were expected to perform, but their Master's will saw that duty performed anyway. The women they bred might be horrified to carry their ill gotten progeny, but they were given a sleeping potion for the ordeal of mating. The first few attempts had ended in the death of the women, and it was considered the safest course, considering the conditions, to force unconsciousness on them, since they lacked the resigned willingness of Bidush and the other orc females. Because of this, the _shara_ girls did not remember the disgust and revulsion of the males that bred them. Angmar folk, having lived in one of the more remote places of the world and being many generations removed from interacting with men, had no more desire for their females, for either sport or more benign purposes, than Men had for orc women. Though, Dezek found the situation of both breeds of females repulsive, and was often thankful she was born to a _snaga_ race, despite its many deficiencies. At least she wasn't forced to breed with someone she didn't want and who didn't want her.

"Oi, girl," Katag growled sternly at Bidush, who peeled her attention from terrified woman. "You listen here. No fightin', you understand? You fight an' you ain't gonna be allowed outta your cell again. An' you be gentle wit' 'er. She ain't as thick as yer lot."

"Bidush be gentle, no fight," she agreed easily. After all, Bidush could tell from the woman's scent that she was a breeder, just like Bidush. She served the Shadow in the same way the orcess did, and that was a noble thing. Besides, Bidush was curious to meet the less hairy gender of Men.

Dezek unclipped the leash from Bidush's thick collar, and the woman in the cell with them gasped and flattened herself against the far wall. Katag scowled at her. "Quit it," the midwife snapped. "She's a big, soft touch, that one. You keep stinkin' like fear an yer gonna make 'er nervous." Katag pointed her long finger at the woman. "I'm lettin' ya in 'ere cause ya did well wit' yer first one. Don't make me regret givin' you slack." The woman nodded tightly, her eyes still wide with fear.

Dezek and Katag filed out of the pen, clanging the metal bars shut behind them. This caused the woman more distress, and she moved from the open space of the far wall to the corner. Bidush was a little startled that the two of them were left alone as well. The woman didn't look particularly fierce or hostile, with her soft, ashy hair and her oversized shift and her blunt, tiny fingers, but that didn't mean that the two of them would get along. Deciding to give the woman her space, Bidush eyed the handholds in the walls appreciatively. She didn't know how long she would have in this larger room, and she wanted to make the most of it.

Hayley wasn't sure what was worse, the fact that she was drugged and raped a second time, forced to carry some unknown monster's child, or the fact that she was in a cell with a similar monster, completely without aid. The small, orc midwife was terrifying, but surprised her this morning by allowing her out of her tiny cell and bringing her here. "Fer exercise," the orc had told her, just before the giant female orc was brought in. Now, Hayley wondered if she was brought here to be a meal to this terrifying creature.

The she orc kept her distance, choosing instead to leap onto the walls. Swinging from little ledge to little ledge, the orc managed to reach the ceiling and started vaulting sideways. Hayley was quietly amazed by the she orc's grace as she leapt and dangled from the walls, finally dropping to the ground to stretch her impossibly long arms with a loud, happy grunt. It seemed somehow wrong that something so large should be so athletic, and the orcess was _large_; barely clothed in a small loincloth, her giant, unfettered breasts swung from side to side as she moved about on all fours, pacing at the far end of the room. Suddenly, the orcess tucked her knees into her chest and began rolling in a little circle. Forgetting her situation for a moment, Hayley giggled at the amusing sight. The she orc looked almost playful, like an overlarge, pudgy child.

The orcess stopped at the sound of Hayley's laughter, perking her pointed ears and staring at the woman in the corner. Hayley's brief mirth immediately vanished. What was she doing, drawing attention to herself? This creature could easily dismember her. Hayley eyed the she orc's giant, thick fangs and massive, muscled forearms with a shudder.

Bidush had been startled by the twittering laughter of her pen mate, and approached her hopefully. It would be nice to speak with someone new. The woman's expression turned grave as Bidush crossed the room, but the orcess endeavored to be as pleasant as possible. If she showed his woman she meant no harm, it might put her at ease. A familiar scent caught Bidush's nose, and the large orcess stopped in her tracks. A chain jangled somewhere down the hallway, and Bidush bounded towards the door.

The orcess started to approach her and, despite the creature's curious expression, Hayley felt as though she might be ill. As the orc came parallel to the door, she stopped suddenly, pitching her nose into the air. An unidentifiable emotion passed across the she orc's face, and she immediately altered her course, hurrying towards the bars of their cell. A shadow passed by, and Hayley caught sight of a pair of bright, red eyes in the darkness of the hallway. The orcess penned in with her reached through the bars.

"Bidush," a deep, weary voice growled from outside the cell, and another thick arm reached in to cup the cheek of Hayley's cellmate. There was a sound like a chain being drawn taught.

The orcess made a small, whining growl in the back of her throat. "_Kranklob_," the she orc grunted, pressing herself against the cage door, her arm reaching out to touch the figure outside. Hayley's brows drew down as she frowned. She could not place why this scene troubled her.

The figure outside the cell jerked as if it was being pulled sharply, and then another voice growled out. "Hurry up, you great cunt," a snarling baritone snapped angrily, "this ain't visitin' hour." The figure jerked again, and was pulled away.

The she orc's face contorted in distress, her teeth bared. "_Kranklob_!" the orcess called anxiously as she pressed herself more tightly against the bars, staring down the hallway. There was no answer, and another cell door clanked in the distance. Hayley's insides twisted with an unexpected sympathy at the pained, sad whine that issued from the large orc's throat and the watery shine in her large, red eyes. Growling the orcess walked to the far corner, curling herself into a ball as she faced the wall. Hayley could hear her breath hitching.

Hayley and her strange cellmate remained in their opposite corners for the rest of their stay in the exercise pen, each bound to their own misery. Dezek came to fetch them about half an hour after they had been brought in. The goblin looked from a weeping Bidush to Hayley's dry face. "What the fuck'd you do ta 'er?" Dezek snapped at the woman.

Hayley shook her head anxiously. "Nothing," she replied hoarsely. It had been so long since she used her voice, Hayley was surprised it still functioned.

Dezek approached the orcess in the corner and gently laid her thin, long hand on the giant's shoulder. "Oi," Hayley heard Dezek hiss softly. "What'd she do ta ya, girl."

Growling, Bidush jumped up, snarling at Dezek, and the little goblin backed up anxiously. "Woman no do," the orcess growled. "_Master_ do, take Bidush from _kranklob_," Bidush's voice cracked with emotion. "Where _kranklob?_" she growled, advancing on the little goblin with her teeth bared. Dezek continued backing up, reaching for her whip. "Dezek tell Bidush! Tell Bidush what Dezek do with Bidush mum!" Hayley bit her lip nervously, unsure of what she would do if the large orcess began to rampage.

With a hiss, Dezek snapped the whip at Bidush's knuckles, splitting the skin on her fingers, and Bidush retreated a pace, lowering herself near the floor and pinning her ears back with a roar that rattled Hayley's bones. "Enough a that!" the goblin snarled. "It's the same fer her as it is fer you. You calm down or I'll have the lads come in 'ere an' drag you to the whippin' block." Bidush looked suddenly repentant, though her ears remained back against her skull. "You don't want that do ya?" Dezek said more gently. The large orcess shook her head, her mouth drawn in a tight, troubled line. "There's a girl," Dezek continued in the same, soft voice. "Now you come 'ere like a good girl an' let me put yer leash back on."

Miserable, Bidush approached the goblin and bowed her head low to the ground so Dezek could hook the leash to her collar. Leashing Hayley, the goblin led the pair of them from the pen and down the hall. Glancing to the side, Hayley noticed the large orcess's head hung limply between her arms as she walked, her face bereft. Feeling her own sense of helplessness with her situation, Hayley faced forward, glaring at the tiny goblin as she waddled in front of them.

Eventually, they were led to a hallway of cells, but Hayley realized this was a different hall than the one she came from. Normally, she would hear the other women weeping from behind the tall, dark doors. Pulling open a door about halfway down, Dezek unleashed Bidush, who obediently walked inside. The tiny room the orcess entered looked not so different from Hayley's accommodations here, and she frowned thoughtfully with that realization.

_She is in a similar position as me,_ Hayley thought, remembering the orcess's bereft expression as she called to the orc outside their pen. Hayley was not completely sure what was being done here. She was brought to Isengard over a year ago by a man with too little hair and too few teeth, promising a better life than the brothel that employed her. Hayley had fallen on dire straits after the birth of her son, who was fortunate enough to be taken in by a kindly family of farmers that could have no children of their own. Her customers dwindled after that, troubled by the scars left by her pregnancy.

When she had seen the white tower in the distance, she wondered if she would be afforded some kind of gainly employment. Instead, she was brought into a living nightmare. Surrounded by orcs and drugged, Hayley had awoken with a familiar soreness between her legs and a pair of goblins forcing more potions down her throat. When she began to swell with her pregnancy, she had been horrified. When she finally gave birth to the dark skinned, red eyed infant that came from her rape, she was so repulsed and sickened, she could not even find the voice to scream. Hayley wondered if something similar was happening to the large orcess. The other orcs here seemed to come and go as they pleased, but the she orc Dezek locked into the tiny cell in front of her seemed as trapped as Hayley. She decided that she would try and speak to the large orcess if they ever met again, and discover if their situations were as alike as they appeared. Perhaps they might find a way to escape this loathsome place together.

Hayley had looked after herself since she was a girl. Stealing when she needed, lying when she had to, and finally finding employment with a madame that ran a house just outside of Bree. She had no fantasy when it came to the harsh truths of the world, but what she found in Isengard went beyond her darkest imaginings. As far as Hayley could guess, she was part of an extensive breeding program. It seemed as though women came and went on a monthly basis. Hayley had shared her cell with two other women, both of which had been replaced over the course of her stay, but she refused to give into the despair that gripped those women and stole their will to live. Her situation might be desperate, but there was a solution to every problem. Haley intended to find it, and the large orcess seemed like a good place to start.

* * *

Over the next two weeks, Hayley dutifully drank the elixirs brought to her and ate the undercooked meat that came in between. She wanted Katag to consider her well behaved. After all, that was why she was placed in a cell with the she orc in the first place. When she had first been brought to Isengard, Hayley had tried to befriend the orcish midwife. Despite Katag's ugly visage and course language, Hayley hoped she might play on a fellow woman's sympathies, but Katag was colder than a fish to such a friendship, and Hayley knew she would be no help to her. The large orcess seemed, at least, friendly, that is, before her bout of rage, but that rage was directed at her Master, whoever that was, and Dezek, the little beast. What had Katag called the orcess? A big, soft touch.

When Katag came to fetch her to the exercise pen, Hayley was nearly giddy with excitement, thinking that she might finally have found a way out of this dreadful fate. What Hayley lacked in strength, the orcess would certainly make up for. She would just need a little push to fight against the goblins that held them. With her ability to climb, the orcess would be able to scale the wall that surrounded Isengard easily. She might even be persuaded to have other orcesses like her join them in their break for freedom. Perhaps they could even free the other women as well. Hayley hoped with every ounce of enthusiasm she could muster. She did not want to think of the possibility that she would not be penned with the orcess on this occasion. That the orcess might not help her. That she might never know the sun on her face again. That she might die in a dark cell deep beneath Isengard, too weak and bereft to call for help, like one of her first cellmates. As Katag led her down the winding hallways and stairs, Hayley carefully memorized the words she intended to use to convince the large she orc to help her and hoped.

_Bidush_, Hayley reminded herself. _She called herself Bidush. It would be best if I called her by name. She's likely to feel more friendly towards me if she knows I remembered her name._

When the cold bars closed behind her, and Hayley found herself face to face with Bidush, she gave a little inward sigh of relief. The orcess was halfway up the wall, clinging to a little handhold in the sheer wall as she looked down on Hayley. Affecting a smile she hoped was genuine looking, Hayley raised her had shyly. "Hello, again," she said weakly, suddenly reminded of hoe intimidating Bidush had been on their first meeting. Somehow, Hayley had made her smaller in her mind.

Cocking her head to the side, Bidush regarded the small woman quietly before scrambling to the ground. Walking on all fours, Bidush did not come higher than Hayley's shoulder, but when she reared up on her hind legs, standing just a few feet away, she seemed monstrous.

_She's just a woman,_ Hayley tried to remind herself. _A very large woman that could tear me to pieces, but still a woman, and trapped here just like I am._ When she had first been brought to Isengard, the orcs had terrified her, but as she became accustomed to them, Hayley discovered they were not so much different in temperament than some of the older women of the brothel. A coarser and crueler version of those women, but still thinking creatures and not mindless animals. They were a people to be wary of, especially the snarling, leering males, a hard hearted and dangerous people, but still a people that might be reasoned with, if she could figure out the right way to go about it.

Bidush had said nothing as she crouched before Hayley, her nostrils flaring. Hayley was still in the early stages of her pregnancy, and not terribly visible, but she though the orcess looked a little bigger around the middle than when she first saw her. Granted, Bidush had a thick waist to begin with, but now she looked a little more puffy in the torso, the curve in her figure nearly gone.

Feeling as though that might set her plans back a bit, Hayley pressed on anyway. "Your name is Bidush, right?" Hayley said lightly, trying to sound more friendly than nervous.

Brightening, the orcess smiled at her, revealing her large, ivory teeth. "Bidush is Bidush," she said in a deep, rumbling voice. "What is woman name?"

Feeling though this was getting off to a good start, Hayley's smile broadened. "My name is Hayley," she answered, extending her hand. "It's nice to see you again, Bidush. I'm sorry I was so nervous the first time we met."

Bidush looked curiously at Hayley's outstretched palm. The orcess took Hayley's hand in her own and sniffed it with a puzzled expression. Hayley laughed nervously. Bidush straightened and extended her own, massive palm, impressed with this human greeting. You could tell a lot from the scent of a hand. Hands went everywhere and picked up all sorts of smells. Bidush knew Hayley had venison for lunch and recently took a piss. The woman's own smell was strong enough, mixed with her pregnancy and the subtle smell of orc that came from her unborn offspring. This was enough to put Bidush's mind at ease. There was enough orc in Hayley's scent that the Man smell didn't make her feel particularly hungry. She had felt the same way about Geth after they had mated. His hair picked up Bidush's own scent rather thoroughly. Bidush knew she could ignore that base desire, she had done it every time a man bred with her, but it was easier to not have to deal with it in the first place. Hunger could be very distracting.

Bidush felt a little baffled when Hayley shook her hand firmly and released her palm. Bidush frowned. "No smell Bidush?"

Laughing outright, Hayley shook her head. "Oh," she said, "no, not at all. We shake hands to show that we are friends." Hayley fixed Bidush with another wide smile.

Bidush considered Dezek the closest thing she had to a friend here, but she would not mind another, especially since Hayley was another breeder. Bidush returned the woman's smile genuinely. "New friend," Bidush confirmed with a sharp, pleased nod. "Like sister. Hayley walk with Bidush, stretch legs?"

Pleased with Bidush's quick acceptance, Hayley began to follow the orcess as she paced the perimeter. They made a round in companionable silence before Hayley decided to strike up a conversation. "So," Hayley said brightly, "have you been here for a long time?"

Bidush made a strange noise in the back of her throat, and Hayley wasn't sure if it was of anger or sadness. "Bidush come when Bidush is small. Five years big. Bidush no sure how long stay. four years of whelps, but years before too, until Bidush old enough for making whelps."

Hayley's brows drew together. "How old do you _think_ you are?"

The orcess grunted. "Bidush think fifteen?"

Hayley would not say she assumed the orcess was any particular age, but she honestly didn't think she was so young. This was distressing. If Bidush had been here for so long, she might be used to following orders and accepting of the way things were done here. She might even consider this place her home. That would make persuading her to escape more difficult. "Are you happy here?" Hayley ventured, hoping to gauge the waters.

Bidush frowned, displeased with the questions her new sister was asking. They were troubling. "Bidush happy no matter," the orcess answered tightly. "Bidush breed, Bidush serve Shadow."

"But don't you _want_ to be happy?" Hayley wheedled.

Huffing, Bidush stopped suddenly and pounded her large fist against the packed, dirt floor. "No matter!" she barked angrily, and Hayley immediately fell silent, her other questions forgotten. This was not how she hoped this would go.

"I'm sorry," Hayley quickly apologized, raising her hands placatingly.

Bidush snorted and walked past her, and Hayley fell back into step next to her, swallowing her fear. She would have to be more careful with the words she chose. "How far along are you?" Hayley asked, gesturing towards Bidush's middle.

The orcess smiled at this. "Still early," she said. "Katag tell Bidush two sprogs, very rare." Hayley thought Bidush looked a little smug as she said this.

"Well," Hayley said, at a loss for words, "I suppose congratulations are in order, then."

"Hayley still early," Bidush said, eyeing the woman next to her. "Still small."

Hayley placed her hand on her abdomen, feeling the gentle swell there. If she were to guess, she would say she was nearly at four months. "I still have a ways to go," she confirmed bitterly, unnerved by the reminder of the creature that grew inside her.

"Hayley mad at whelp?" Bidush asked, confused by the woman's smell. "Smell mad. What sprog do?"

"Nothing," Hayley said, suddenly depressed. "It did nothing. I just... don't want it."

Bidush nodded quietly. "Hayley lucky, no want sprog. Easier to give Shadow sprog if no want." Bidush swallowed roughly. "Bidush want keep sprogs, but no keep. Shadow take."

"Why don't you leave then?" Hayley asked, suddenly angry. "You could take your babies and leave. Why don't you? You're strong enough. Why don't you fight?"

"Bidush serve Shadow!" the orcess barked, her mouth firm.

"Well," Hayley said, upset now, "_I_ don't want to serve the Shadow! I don't want to have children for it and I don't want to be stuck in this prison doing it!" Feeling defeated, Hayley felt her throat tighten as the pressure behind her eyes grew. Sniffing, she turned away from the orcess, angry at Bidush and angry at herself for showing her hand.

A large, heavy hand settled gently on Hayley's back. "No one want serve Shadow," Bidush said quietly. "Serve Shadow anyway. Chin up, proud." Bidush lifted Hayley's chin with her finger as she straightened her own neck and squared her shoulders. "Give up much. Is noble."

"There is nothing _noble_ about this place," Hayley said, pulling out of Bidush's grasp. "What has the Shadow ever done for _you_ that you should be so loyal to it?" The orcess looked a little stunned by her anger, and Hayley was surprised to see Bidush back up a few paces.

"Oi," Dezek's hissing voice barked. "That's it you two. Time ta go back to yer spots."

Hayley stormed from the pen, leaving a stunned Bidush behind her. She gladly allowed Dezek to clip her leash on and lead her back to her cell. Her cellmates might be depressing, but at least they weren't _insane._

Bidush walked solemnly behind Katag. As the door to her cell shut behind her, Bidush gazed around the dull, dark room with a scowl. What did that whiny woman know anyway? Bidush was doing important work. Growling the orcess curled up on her little nest.

That night, she dreamed of running under the sky, and no shadow could catch her.


	4. Lines in the Sand

**The Black Heart**

**Chapter Four: Lines in the Sand**

* * *

She was a lovely, tall woman; young, with light, loose curls that hung to her waist. Geth crouched in the dark canopy of a nearby thicket, running his tongue against his teeth as she knelt, bending over to scrub another long shirt against her washboard in the stream. Her house was not far away, a little grey blot on the horizon with a streak of pale smoke coming from the chimney. The open landscape allowed Geth to keep an eye on the comings and goings of her husband and young son. They had left nearly an hour ago, leading an old, rickety horse loaded with heavy packs down the dirt road that wound towards a nearby town.

Feeling his chance, Geth rose from his hiding spot. A feral glee thrummed through his muscles as he crept towards her, his leather soles silent on the plush grass.

She was humming softly, some old ballad that Geth had never heard. This was the part of hunting he liked best, the slow approach, his prey completely unawares. She had nowhere to run, and Geth had been very cautious. The men had left nearly half an hour past. They would be too far to hear her scream.

By the time Geth made it back to the small, covered wagon where his partners were, it was nearly dusk. He had been careful as he returned, walking through several streams and keeping to harder, rockier ground. Fall was in high swing, but the weather was unseasonably warm, and the rich dark earth of northern Rohan would give away his passage if he was not careful. The light, puffy clouds suggested a good storm was a long way off, and Geth didn't want to be followed.

His latest acquisition was slung over his shoulder. Besides a few, fresh bruises from her struggle, he had left her untouched. Saruman wanted the women Geth brought him in good breeding condition. Geth could endure a few hard nights for the pleasures that awaited him in Isengard. He regretted that he had not taken the time to see Bidush again, but Dezek had been a quick and necessary replacement on his brief stops. Orcs had looser standards when it came to physical relationships, often engaging with several partners of either gender at any given time, and Geth doubted the little goblin would be jealous if Geth went to see Bidush on this return. Dezek seemed pleased with Geth's physical attention and didn't seem interested in anything more than that. The slips of coins he plied her with didn't hurt either.

His industry was impressing the Wizard who would stroke his beard and nod approvingly each time Geth would drop his cargo at the hidden gate in the forest. In four months, Geth had managed to procure just over one hundred women, still far fewer than there were breeding orcs, but more than Isengard had seen since it broke ground on Orthanc, certainly more than Dunland had sent, and he had gone about it smart. He did not kidnap them from the same area, altering his course for every trip so no pattern could be established. This venture had taken him nearly to Mirkwood, and to the small villages that peppered the plains between the Misty Mountains and that dark forest to the East. It had been a good haul, and Geth was glad he had acquired the extra manacles from the armory, no matter how much Isengard's sneering head smith had scowled at him. Gijakzi could give him all the dirty looks he wanted. Saruman wanted more Mannish females to increase the variety in his first generation of half-man orcs. He needed Geth at his disposal, and Geth knew it.

Berti stuck her head out of the back of the wagon, her angular, brown face smiling, though she squinted against the sun from beneath the narrow brim of her grey trilby hat. "'Ad a busy day, 'ave we?" she said cheerfully as she swung from the back of the wagon, revealing her slightly too sharp canines with a wide smile.

"Is Herb still out?" Geth asked as he approached and tossed the unconscious woman at Berti's feet.

She nodded and immediately bent to chain their new slave, clanking irons on the woman's feet and wrists before hauling her into the back of the wagon, next to a line of terrified girls, their eyes wide with horror as Berti smiled cruelly at them. Turning to Geth, Berti put her hands on her hips and looked him over from top to bottom. The woman had gotten in a few scratches during her struggle. "Poor Geth," Berti pouted, "tore ya up a bit, did she?"

She was a good head shorter than him, but broader. There was a lot of strength in those long, thin arms. Both Berti, and her brother Herb, were the most dependable folks he knew when it came to such ventures. Though their orcish blood was thinned enough for them to be passable in towns of Men, they were a cautious pair, keeping mostly to each other except for the few accomplices they trusted. Geth was pleased when he had come across them only a few weeks after he started collecting women.

A feisty, rough faced, redheaded woman named Aud had helped him during his first trip. She seemed keen enough on gathering girls for an unknown and unnamed employer, but the second she caught sight of the orcs meeting them at the supply tunnel to Isengard, her face paled and Geth knew she wouldn't have the stomach for it. Geth had an extra head when he delivered his cargo. Aud's hazel eyes spoke murder as the orcs dragged her, screaming, into the dark recesses of Orthanc.

Geth pulled Berti into his arms with a rakish grin. "Worried about me, are you?"

With a firm slap to his rear and a smirk, Berti pulled out of his grasp. Geth would not be so forward with her. She and her brother were closer in more ways than one, and Herb had a tendency to get jealous. An easy thing to waive off most of the time, but Berti was a fine looking girl, by Geth's standards, and a good deal more fun to run with than Aud had been, though the redhead had known a few pleasing tricks in the sack that made her more bearable.

Still, Herb had a fist the size of Geth's head, despite his shorter stature, and Berti always took her brother's side of things. Geth needed the pair of them if he was to keep up the grueling schedule he had set, so he contented himself with thoughts of Bidush as he watched Berti kneel into the wagon, checking the girls' chains. She was wearing tight, dark breeches under her beige tunic and dark, dusty jacket, and her firm rear was in perfect view.

Geth had met Herb first, several years ago, while doing a stint in jail for petty thievery. Herb, in his late teens at the time, had been brought up on murder charges, and was waiting his execution for the crime of killing three of the five men that had raped and beaten his teenage sister. Oddly, the fact of Berti's assault had been omitted from his trial, since two of the slain men held fairly high standing, while Herb and Berti were a pair of orphans, squatting on their dead parents' dilapidated farmstead several miles outside of town.

Berti had been beaten nearly to death, but the trial had given her time enough to heal so that she was able to sneak into the small stock hold where her brother was held, kill the two night guards and free Herb, and by fortunate circumstance, Geth, before more men could be called in to stop them. She had seemed remarkably young then, innocent despite her bruised, beaten face and the gore she was covered in, and the adoration she held for her brother was obvious. Geth liked the pair of them immediately, and, though they hadn't stuck together long after escaping, had done a few jobs with them over the years. They both had good heads on their shoulders, and if there was one thing Geth could be certain of, Herb wouldn't lay a hand on the women they collected unless they needed a cuff for getting too weepy. His eyes were only for Berti.

A small head of wild black hair poked out from the jockey box as Geth retrieved the skein of water they had there. Berti and Herb's six year old son, Ash, was a little darker skinned than his mother, favoring his father in looks, with the same, slanted, black eyes of his parents. He was more lethargic in the day, spending most of the time sleeping while Geth and his father were out searching for women. Geth had been a little reluctant to bring him along, but Ash was a clever boy, and knew how to keep out of trouble. He was also a good eye to have on the Women, being just as ruthless with them as his mother. A few had tried to escape during various trips, and didn't think much of a boy observing their efforts, but Ash was quick to alert the adults if any of the girls tried to wriggle out of their chains or fiddle with the locks. The women soon learned to be as cautious around him as they were with Berti, who would answer their pleas for mercy with a quick slap to the face and a laugh before she gagged them.

"Oi, Uncle Geth," the boy said with a gap-toothed smile.

Geth smiled and ruffled the boys wild hair. "How you doin' kid?" he said before taking a long drink of water. "Being good for your mum?"

Nodding, Ash stretched with a jaw popping yawn, sparing a glance into the back where a few women whimpered as Berti undid their gags and offered them water. "Ya," Ash said with another yawn, rubbing his eyes. "We gettin' outta 'ere soon?"

"Just as soon as your dad's back," Geth said, handing the boy the water skein. Ash took a long drink himself, staring up into the blush sky.

Berti took that moment to round the side of the wagon and scoop up her son, who squealed in surprise as she plopped her hat on his too small head and kissed him roughly on the cheek. Her hair was pulled back in a low braid that hung down her back. "'E'll be back in a bit an' then we can be off," Berti looked seriously at Geth. "This'll be the las' trip fer the season, won' it?"

"Most likely," Geth said with a careless shrug. "I'd rather not get caught in a surprise storm, and I think we've done well enough."

Berti nodded at that, setting Ash back in the wagon. She had a thoughtful look on her face. "You think tha' Old Man'll need more girls next year?"

"I don't doubt it," Geth said with a laugh. "They don't last long for him." Berti nodded again, quiet, and Geth wondered what was going through her head as she played with the tufts of her son's knotty hair that peeked out from beneath the hat.

By the time the sun was set Herb had returned, empty handed and grumbling. "Jus' a few bints too youn' fer it," he'd said, and Geth shrugged. They had more than enough women to return with.

They had taken to traveling at night. Herb was able to steer the mules well enough in the darkness, and the bright moon made things easier than usual for him this evening. Geth sat alongside him in the jockey box while Berti sat in the rear of the wagon, eyeing the sleeping girls sharply, a crossbow slung on her shoulder and her long hunting knife at the ready. Ash was in her lap, quietly playing with her long, sable braid as he watched the scenery pass around them.

Geth leaned his head back, enjoying the crisp night air. There was a taste of winter on the breeze, and he was glad this would be their last trip for the year. He was eager to return to the safety of Isengard and the comforts it provided. "What will you do this winter?" Geth asked Herb.

Herb grunted and ran his hand through his unevenly cropped hair with a thoughtful look. "Wintered in 'is little cabin we foun' up in the moun'ns las' year," he said in a deep, rumbling baritone. "Probably'll head back up 'ere."

"You should stay with me in Isengard," Geth offered. "I'm sure something could be arranged."

Herb frowned and shook his head. "Naw," he said. "Don' seem like a good place fer the boy, wot with all 'em folk crowded in there."

"You don't think you'll be welcomed among them?" Geth said with a raised brow. He had always wondered why Herb and Berti hadn't fallen in with a troop of orcs themselves, being part goblin. Herb and Ash especially favored their orcish side, with darker skin and more fang-like canines. Even their nails were a bit sharper than that of a Man. He mentioned this to Herb.

"Eh," Herb grunted. "Sometime they won't give a care 'bout the Man in us, an' sometime they do. Don't much fancy livin' wit' a tribe of 'em. They expect ya ta share everythin', even yer woman, an' you know 'ow I feel 'bout shit 'ike 'at." Herb leaned back in his seat with a sigh. "Guess it wou'd be good fer Ash, bein' 'round kids 'is own age, but they'd probably give 'em as much shit 'bout bein' part Man as Men'd giv'im fer bein' part orc. That's 'ow it were fer me an' Bert when we was kids, once folk in 'e village foun' out bout mum. Even afore 'at, 'ey thought we was a pair 'e Changelings, 'cause we was so differen' lookin'."

"There are other half orcs there," Geth said, remembering the many dens in the subbasements of Orthanc, filled with the progeny of Bidush and her sisters. There were hundreds of children, varying in age, in those catacombs; cared for by dozens upon dozens of goblins.

"Yeah, ya tol' me," Herb said as he scratched at his scruffy, patchy beard. "They don't sound much like mum was. You could see the Man in 'er. Don' sound 'ike 'em kids're much like 'at."

"I'm not sure what the difference is," Geth said with a shrug.

Herb glanced sideways at Geth with a knowing frown. "Trus' me, there's a big fuckin' difference," he said, and dropped the conversation all together.

* * *

The trip back to Isengard went without incident, and in under a week Herb and Berti were waving to Geth as he disappeared into the tunnel to Orthanc behind a long line of women being dragged in by several, large orcs. Herb accepted their payment from the Wizard's slinking, pale servant while Berti sat with their son in the wagon.

Now on their way north, to the small cabin where they would winter, Herb glanced into the back of the wagon, where Berti had unfolded their sleeping rolls and laid with Ash, quietly stroking his hair as he napped away the afternoon. The daylight bothered her more than Herb, though her night vision was twice as accurate. It was why she kept watch at the rear of the wagon at night.

Berti had a somber look on her face as she laid with her head propped on her hand. Herb frowned at that. "Wot's botherin' ya, Bert? Ain't keen on 'e work?"

Berti's dark eyes fixed on him and she smiled wanly. "Nuthin' like 'at," she said quietly, not wanting to wake their son. "We done that bit wit' them fellas up nort', traffikin' girls, an' 'at didn't bugger me. You know I don' give a care fer some bitches I don' know."

Herb remembered that particular venture. Ash had just been born. Berti was really something, with their son strapped to her back, waving her club in those stupid bints' faces to keep them in line. The expressions on those women, and on the faces of the men Herb and Berti had accompanied, had been priceless.

"But somthing's botherin' ya," Herb said knowingly.

"I guess," Berti said, "it's jus' creepy is all, knowin' what's goin' on in 'at place. You don' think so?"

Herb nodded, looking towards the road. The mules' dusty heads bobbed steadily, and Herb heard Berti shifting in the back. Her head popped out of the wagon and she leaned against the jockey box. Herb glanced sidelong at her. "One more season, Bert," he told her. "Then we'll 'ave enough to buy our own little spot an' more asides. Somewhere you an' me an' Ash'll be safe. We'll 'ave a deed an' everything, an' no one'll take 'at from us. Not like 'ey did wit' dad, since 'e only leased 'is plot."

Berti nodded. Land would be a good investment for them and Ash and any children they had after. There were lands in the East where folk like her and Herb would not be looked upon so poorly, even if their neighbors figured out they were part goblin; that their darker skin was not due to a Harad ancestry. In many ways, the ignorance of northern folk had allowed them to pass through towns untroubled, but Herb still had to wear a hood and gloves to hide his pointed ears and too sharp nails. Berti had and easier time passing for a pureblooded Woman, with a straighter nose and more subtle orcish features, but her heritage was obvious enough if someone was looking for it.

Berti checked to make sure Ash was still sleeping before climbing into the jockey box next to Herb. She laid her head against his broad shoulder, pulling down the brim of her had to shield her sensitive eyes against the glaring November sun. Herb put a gloved hand on her thigh. "One more season," he assured her with a gentle squeeze, "an' we won't 'ave to worry ourselves wit' it."

* * *

Geth whistled merrily as he ascended the flights of stairs from the Women's breeding pits, a light spring in his step. Not one to be inconsiderate, he thought to return the twenty pairs of manacles and length of chain he had borrowed. They were only gently used, after all, and Gijakzi might actually be grateful for his thoughtfulness. Though he had memorized much of Orthanc's winding tunnels and hallways, it was almost a moot point at this time of day. The sound of clanking metal carried for several levels. A blind man could find the forge of Isengard.

A wave of heat washed over Geth as he stepped into the hallway leading to the wide, barred doors. The bars were left open to the comings and goings of the goblin smiths as they worked, but Gijakzi shut them every night in the late hours, locking the door dutifully before retiring. Only one other goblin held the keys, a tiny, pale orc with giant, yellow eyes named Gruz, who stoked the fires every morning. Geth had already made friends with him. Most of the orcs in Isengard were friendly with the outlaw, but not the head smith. Geth wondered at that, and decided Dezek had been right to call him uppity.

As he entered the forge, Geth was a little surprised to see Gijakzi at an anvil, beating a blade into shape. There weren't many goblins working today, though the digging and tunneling in the pit just beyond was loud enough to make up for the lighter staff. Geth approached Gijakzi from the front, thinking it would be unwise to startle him when he was holding a large, iron mallet in his hand.

Geth stood for several, long minutes while the smith ignored him, turning the length of metal and banging away at it. This Geth had become accustomed to, and he decided not to let it rattle him as it usually did. Gijakzi was obviously insecure in his position and saw Geth as a threat. Considering the high opinion Saruman now held for Geth, and the fact that Gijakzi's staff liked him more than their supervisor, Gijakzi must consider him some competition for authority. Geth felt he could show a little patience and consideration to the goblin. Perhaps that may help smooth things over between them.

Geth stood for another ten minutes watching Gijakzi work, straight faced and completely oblivious to the man standing a stone's throw in front of him. His muscles bunched and rolled as he struck at the blade with methodic precision, honing it into a long, sickle shape with a confident hand. He worked with a practiced ease, molding the steel into its final form with swift economy, and Geth suddenly realized, with an odd sense of discomfort, that Gijakzi was just as skilled as he claimed to be. Geth thought the head smith seemed pleased to have an audience to witness his superior talent.

Scowling, Geth finally decided he was bored of waiting. "Gijakzi!" Geth shouted over the din of the forge.

The goblin looked up from his work with his usual glower. "Wot?" he said evenly, letting his arm fall to his side.

Geth nodded towards the manacles and chains slung over his shoulder. "I brought these back for you."

Snorting, Gijakzi wiped his face on the long towel tied to the strap of the heavy apron that covered his bare chest and shorts. "Ain't that fuckin' sweet," he growled sarcastically, reaching for the ring of keys on his belt.

Gijakzi loped, unhurried, towards the armory while Geth followed with barely masked annoyance. The goblin knew what he was doing, delaying Geth as long as possible, making Geth feel beholden to his whims. He refused to let it bother him. Let Gijakzi have his little power play, it didn't matter to Geth. Soon he would be enjoying sweet comforts with Bidush.

"You know where those go," Gijakzi said as he motioned Geth inside and then, uncharacteristically, followed him in. Geth hung the manacles and chains back in their place while Gijakzi watched him, standing at his full height, with his arms folded across his chest. "The knife too," the goblin added and jerked his thumb towards the far row where the knives were kept.

"What if I need use of it?" Geth said archly.

"That blade were a _loan_," Gijakzi rumbled. "You're holin' up here fer the winter ain't ya? Don't see what _use_ you'd have fer it."

"I can think of a few," Geth grumbled crossly as he fixed Gijakzi with a dirty look and stormed to the other side of the armory. He tossed the blade carelessly into a pile of its fellows. When he turned, Gijakzi was directly in front of him. The goblin's right hand flew to Geth's throat with impossible speed, his thumb pressing on Geth's larynx with crushing strength. The outlaw gasped, trapped between the immovable strength in Gijakzi's hand and the metal beam behind him, unable to find his breath as the large goblin squeezed with painful slowness. Geth tried for the knives nearby, but was frantic with lack of air, and only succeeded in knocking a dozen blades to the floor with a loud, metallic clatter.

Gijakzi's eyed him with a determined composure, his hard features lacking rage or anger. "You listen ta me, _shara,_" the smith said calmly, his voice a low rumble. "I don't fuckin' trust ya, and I ain't never gonna fuckin' trust ya, an' if I have ta see yer face anymore 'n I'm forced ta this winter, I'm gonna fucking kill ya." Geth wheezed painfully, his face going bluish and Gijakzi smiled humorlessly, squeezing a little harder. "I ain't a stupid cunt what wants a quick lay. I don't think yer fuckin' cute," the smith sneered, baring his teeth. "So don't ya get cute wit' me." Geth did not answer. Angry, black spots swarmed his vision, and he knew that he would soon pass out.

"Gijakzi!" Saruman's voice boomed and the crushing vice of Gijakzi's hand released Geth, who dropped gracelessly to the floor in a coughing fit. Geth looked up to the amusing sight of the head smith clutching at his skull, a pained grimace on his face and a low, agonized whine in his throat. Geth had to stamp down the pleased smile that threatened to bloom.

"Now, now," the Wizard chided calmly as he crossed the distance between the armory threshold and where Gijakzi stood. The goblin cowered before him, barely able to open his eyes. "Is that any way to treat a guest?" Saruman asked with a raised brow.

Sneering, Gijakzi cast a dirty look in Geth's direction, and Saruman clucked his tongue. "Well?" the Wizard pressed, and Geth did smile then, realizing that Saruman expected an answer.

"_Nar_," Gijakzi hissed through clenched teeth, his body still stiff and trembling.

Feeling steadier, Geth rose to his feet with a brief nod towards Saruman. The Wizard did not return the greeting. "You have somewhere to be, I am sure," Saruman said dispassionately, his blue eyes flicking briefly in Geth's direction.

"Of course," Geth said hurriedly, and turned to leave.

"I want to see the plans for the barracks," Saruman said to the goblin as Geth crossed the room. "I will assume they are finished, since you seem to have so much free time."

"Yes, _Master_," was Gijakzi's pained answer and Geth smiled as he left the armory behind him.

* * *

"Tell Bidush again, about town of Men," Bidush pressed Hayley as they made another round in the exercise pen. After that first, awkward and frustrating conversation, Hayley was sure she would never want to speak to the orcess again, but Hayley was desperate for any contact with anyone. Katag and her little lackeys remained distant, and Hayley's cellmates were nearly catatonic. She feared if she did not find some glimmer of hope to cling to, this place would do to her what it had done to the other women here, and that seemed like a fate even worse than death.

So, when she met Bidush for a third time, she strove to make amends. She apologized for her anger, and Bidush, surprisingly, accepted her apology with ease. Hayley realized, as the weeks wore on and she spoke to the orcess more and more, that, though she was resolved to serve the Shadow, Bidush felt just as lonely and isolated. Much to Hayley's surprise, she found she liked talking to Bidush, even if their conversation steered clear of their misery in this place. Bidush liked hearing about Hayley's life before she came to Isengard, and Hayley found she liked to talk about it. It fed her endurance in some inexplicable way.

As Hayley's pregnancy progressed and Bidush grew as well, Hayley found that she did not mind discussing their unborn children, despite the ghastly way they were conceived. For some reason, knowing Bidush cared so deeply for her own babies made Hayley feel more connected to her own child, and made her pregnancy a little easier to bear.

Though she did not bring it up again, Hayley still hoped that she might, eventually, persuade Bidush to escape, but now she felt something more than a selfish desire to be free. She felt an attachment to the orcess as well. Bidush had a naive, gentle way about her, and the thought of the giant orcess spending her life in a dark cell, giving up baby after baby to some unknown power seemed just as horrifying as being stuck in this place herself.

Hayley smiled at the orcess and shook her head. "I have told you about my town several dozen times already," she laughed.

"Bidush hear again," the orcess said with a soft smile of her own.

Hayley decided she wanted to know a little more about Bidush. "Why don't you tell me about where you are from?" Hayley asked. Bidush did not speak of her own homeland, and Hayley had been curious about it for a while. Angmar seemed like a distant, exotic country to Hayley. A wild place at the edge of the world, filled with trolls and orcs and things that no man had seen before.

Bidush frowned thoughtfully. "Bidush no remember much," she said quietly and paused to sit, her gaze far away. Hayley stopped next to her. "Big mountain," Bidush said finally. "Many big mountain, and cold. Much..." Bidush frowned. "Not know word," the orcess said with a fretful look. "Bidush say _bor. _Cold water, white."

"Snow?" Hayley offered and Bidush shrugged. "Snow is frozen water," Hayley explained. "It is white and falls from the sky."

"_Akh!_" Bidush said with a bright expression. "Much snow! Bidush mum and dad hunt _dre_." Bidush frowned again and looked to Hayley. "Animal with horn?"

Hayley shook her head. "Many animals have horns," she said, and Bidush shrugged, not as concerned with not knowing this translation. "It sounds like you remember a lot," Hayley said with a gentle smile, and patted Bidush on the shoulder.

"Bidush remember when come here," she said quietly. "Walk many night. Mum, dad, brother, mother sisters, mother brothers, whole clan. Stay near mountain. Watch for _golug_."

Hayley blinked at the way Bidush shuddered at the unfamiliar orc word. "What is a... _golug_."

With a dead serious expression, Bidush stared at Hayley. "Hayley not know _golug_?" Hayley shook her head. "_Golug_ very, _very_ bad! Live in tree. Eat orc!"

Hayley bit her lip. She had never heard of a creature that lived in trees and ate orcs. Then again, she had not spent much time in the wilderness. "That's awful!" she gasped, horrified. "Did you see any?"

Bidush shook her head adamantly. "Bidush lucky. Bidush clan lucky," the orcess said with a sigh of relief that Hayley also felt. She was glad Bidush did not have to see any of her family eaten by such a monster.

"All right you chatty birds," Katag called from the doorway. "Time's up." The pair pouted a little as they approached the midwife, but dutifully allowed their leashes to be put on.

Katag listened idly to their conversation as she led them down the hallway. Bidush was describing all of the horrible stories she had ever heard about _golug hai_, and Katag bit her cheek at Hayley's aghast reactions. The midwife decided not to tell the woman that _golug_ was the orcish word for elf. To Katag's knowledge, elves and men were fairly chummy with one another, and Hayley would most likely not be so horrified if she knew the terrible beasts Bidush spoke of were elves.

After Dezek described the conversation Hayley had with Bidush about escape, Katag had a small male goblin listen in on their subsequent exercise periods. The smell of orc was so prevalent in the halls, Katag knew that Bidush would not scent a random male she didn't know, and Katag wanted to be sure that the human woman didn't persuade the orcess to do anything foolish.

Instead, she was told that Hayley had sought reconciliation with Bidush, and the two were becoming fast friends. It was a surprising discovery, considering Hayley had tried to befriend Katag in order to gain favor with her. Katag was aware, even as Hayley batted her eyes and did as she was told, that the woman would try to gain her freedom by playing on Katag's sympathies. In truth, Katag felt a great deal of sympathy towards all of the females in her charge, even the women, but that did not mean that she would do something as foolish as release them. Katag was just as bound to her Master's will as Bidush, and she would not risk her own neck over the pitiful situation of the dams here.

However, that did not mean that she would not try and bring the females what happiness she could. Katag was glad Bidush and Hayley were getting along so well. Their friendship seemed to be doing them both good, and Katag wished she could foster a similar camaraderie among the other orcesses and women. Unfortunately, Bidush's gentleness and Hayley's bright outlook were a rarity. If Katag mixed those limp rags and ornery bints, she would be short quite a few women.

Katag frowned as she entered the hallway that led to Bidush's cell. Leaning by the orcess's door was her Master's newest human servant. Katag did not particularly care for Geth. He had already bribed or slept with half of her female underlings, making them completely unreliable when it came to keeping an eye on him, and he walked around like he owned the place. If that _pushdug_ thought he was getting in with Bidush, he was sorely mistaken.

"What're you doin' down here?" Katag growled.

Bidush cocked her head curiously, thinking the same thing. She was still pregnant, and would not be able to breed for another two months, not until her whelps were born and she had recovered.

"I have permission," Geth said with a charming smile. Access to Bidush had been a minor stipulation in his contract with the Wizard, though he had yet to exercise it. Katag could try to bully him all she wanted, he was well within his rights to be here.

"She's too far along fer you ta be pokin' at her," Katag growled. "Bugger off!"

"I would never do anything to hurt my own children," Geth said with a hurt expression. Katag growled low in her throat.

Hayley frowned, looking from the hairy man in front of her to Bidush's baffled expression with a troubled feeling. That was the father of Bidush's children? Hayley shuddered, knowing she would no more want to spend the night with her baby's father than she would a _golug_. She was annoyed with the way the man spoke, as if he had some right to Bidush. As if she were not standing _right here_.

"Why don't you ask Bidush if _she_ wants to spend the night with _you_?" Hayley spoke up, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly. The man fixed her with a cold glare, and Hayley inwardly shivered at the pure loathing she saw in his eyes, but she straightened her shoulders and firmed her mouth defiantly. If Bidush would not speak up for herself, then Hayley would do it for her. The orcess should have some choice in this, at least. Bidush was carrying young and giving them up for her Master. She should not be expected to whore herself for him as well.

Katag looked at Hayley thoughtfully, and then at Bidush. "What do you want, Bidush?" Katag asked. "I'll leave him with you if you want 'im there, but if you don't, he can sod off."

Bidush shifted uneasily on her knuckles, looking from Katag to Geth, who smiled warmly at her. "Come now, heart," he said gently. "I haven't seen you in a good long while. Didn't you miss me?"

Bidush had missed him, at first. He was the only man who had ever made her feel special, the only one who made breeding enjoyable, but Dezek brought his well wishes and promises for the past four months, and he had not once come to see her! Now, she was very pregnant, very near to her labor, which would come in another four weeks, and she did not particularly feel like mating, even for pleasure. She felt swollen and tired and wanted to nap and have her dinner and go to bed. However, eventually she would be lonely, and she would not be able to see Hayley for another two weeks. If she denied Geth now, he may never come to see her again, or want to mate with her.

"Bidush stay with Geth," she said quietly, staring at the floor. "Bidush tired," she said, glancing up at Geth. "Want company. No mate."

Geth's smile broadened. "Of course," he said with an obliging nod. "I understand."

Hayley thought he sounded completely insincere, but Bidush met his smile with a small one of her own. Hoping the sinking feeling in her gut was wrong, Hayley gave Bidush a quick hug. "I'll see you in a few weeks," she said, squeezing Bidush's neck. Bidush patted her arm lightly, and followed Geth into her cell.

"I'll have someone let you out in the morning," Katag growled at Geth's back.

He glanced over his shoulder at her with a smirk. "No need," he said lightly. "Your Master gave me a key." Geth shut the cell door, and Katag stood, stunned, as she heard the door lock from the inside.

"Son of a whore," Katag growled. He had a _key_? Katag was the only one with keys to the cells! Who did that _zanbaur_ prick think he was?

"Who's the arsehole?" Hayley said darkly. Katag turned to face the woman. In her shock, she had almost forgotten Hayley was there.

"Never you mind," Katag said as she led Hayley towards the women's breeding pit.

Hayley followed the slender orcess quietly for the length of their walk, feeling uneasy about leaving Bidush with that man. He didn't seem trustworthy in the slightest, though he did posses a key to Bidush's cell. Maybe Hayley was wrong. Maybe Bidush might persuade him to help them. Even as the thought entered her mind, Hayley found it suspect.

Hayley regarded the orc midwife quietly as she unbolted the door to Hayley's quarters. "Katag," Hayley said quietly, before the orcess could open the door and push her through, "You'll check on her, right? To make sure he doesn't make her do anything she doesn't want?"

Katag paused and regarded the young woman curiously. "What does it matter ta you?"

Hayley wrinkled her nose, insulted. "We're sisters," Hayley said. "Bidush said so herself. You know how she is. If someone pushes her too much, she'll just roll over."

Frowning, Katag looked the young woman over. Hayley was a tough girl. Even with her growing belly, she had a determined way about her. For the first time since Hayley had come here, Katag wondered seriously what sort of life this woman led _before_ that made her so spirited. Every other mannish female had fallen to despair almost immediately after their first conception, but not Hayley. Katag wasn't sure what made her so different.

"I'll check on her myself," Katag assured the girl. Hayley nodded sharply, and entered her cell without complaint.

Katag had another two hours worth of rounds to make. Checking on other pregnant females, making sure the more comatose women were drinking water and eating, and finally dolling out the Wizard's potion. She left most of the potions with her staff to distribute among the females, but took Bidush's herself, intent on fulfilling her promise to Hayley. Besides, Katag had her own misgivings about leaving Geth with Bidush.

She found Bidush's cell locked, but when she unbolted the door and pulled it open, Bidush was alone in her cell, fast asleep. Her half eaten dinner was still on the floor, pushed near the door. Katag scowled at the light musk of sex in the room. Approaching the orcess, she was relieved that she did not smell blood or injury on Bidush. Katag nudged her shoulder gently, and Bidush blinked awake slowly, her eyes puffy.

"Oi girl," Katag whispered. "You all right?"

Bidush sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. She looked around startled. "Where Geth?"

Katag clenched her jaw angrily. "You didn't know 'e left?" she growled, quietly furious. Bidush frowned and shook her head. "Did 'e make you do anythin' you didn't want ta?" the midwife said carefully. Bidush was covered with a blanket, but her loincloth was tossed carelessly in the corner.

Bidush had a guilty look on her face, but shook her head slowly. "Bidush want," she said quietly, plucking at the blanket. Sighing, Katag nodded quietly. If that little prick hadn't forced the poor girl, then she wouldn't be angry. It was not unheard of for female orcs to desire coupling well into their pregnancy. Bidush might have changed her mind and wanted to mate with him. She certainly had spoken highly of his skill in that area after he had spent the night with her.

"Dinner come?" Bidush asked.

Katag nearly screamed in rage. "I'll have some sent fresh to you," she said, glaring at the picked through plate near the door. Bidush smiled wanly and took the potion Katag offered her, downing it dutifully with a grimace. The Wizard's potion certainly didn't _smell_ very good. Katag doubted it tasted much better.

After she left Bidush, Katag stalked to the meat larder and ordered another portion sent up to the hungry orcess. Then, she went looking for Geth. She did not have to look long for him. He and Dezek were stinking up the small orcess's quarters. Dezek shared a bunk with two other females, both of whom served under Katag. From the smell of things, Geth was with all three of them.

Katag tore the heavy, fur curtain from the doorway, revealing Geth, Dezek and Dezek's two roommates, Sogar and Zag in a complicated looking position. The quarters of the serving goblins were not very large, and were packed on top of one another in a long hallway on one of the lower levels, like rows of closets. Geth was no more than three feet away from Katag, smiling broadly.

"Well, hello, my pet," he said cheerfully. "Have you come to join us?" Dezek and her friends had the presence of mind to look terrified.

This went beyond insulting. For one, Dezek and Zag should be on their rounds, and for another, Geth had no business lurking around the orcesses' quarters. He had his own fancy room on one of the upper levels, with a proper bed and washbasin and wardrobe supplied by their Master. Katag did not use her whip often. She felt as though they were all in a miserable enough situation, and she was usually pleased with the work her girls did. She had never been so disappointed, or so enraged.

With a vicious snarl, Katag grabbed the short, studded whip on her hip, and in one motion unraveled and flicked it forward. The females yelped and scattered while Geth brought up his arm to shield his face. "You useless _cunts_," Katag roared. "Get on yer rounds, stupid bitches." Dezek and Zag hastily threw on their clothes as Katag snapped her whip at them. They scrambled down the hallway half dressed, pulling on their boots as they ran.

"An _you_," Katag hissed, pointing the whip at Geth while Sogar cowered in the corner. "If I catch yer arse down here again, I'll have yer fucking head fer it! I don't care how much the Master fuckin' likes ya. There's plenty of accidents ta be had in this place!"

Geth glowered at the thin, red line of blood along his forearm. Standing, he pulled his breeches from the corner and put them on unhurriedly. Katag stood where she was, panting with rage, her whole body coiled tight. Geth turned with a calm expression and stepped passed Katag as if he intended to leave, but whirled suddenly, belting her in the face with a balled fist.

Katag was much smaller than Geth, and only came up to the top of his abdomen. Never mind that she had spent her whole life as a healer, or training to become a healer. In her tribe she had her own status, and did not need to learn how to hunt or fight. Those roles were fulfilled by larger, broader orcesses than her.

Geth's foot connected with her kidney and she yelped in pain. Then his hand was fisted in her long, dark hair, and he dragged her to her feet and pushed her against the wall. Katag swiped at him, but barely managed to graze his face, and he twisted her arm up and behind her back with his free hand. "You listen to _me_, my duck," he hissed. "You're in no position to tell me what to do."

A sharp, whistling sound preceded a loud snap of a whip, and Geth yowled and released Katag stumbling down the hall and away from her. His right side was sliced, and the outlaw clutched at the long line of gushing blood that ranged from his hip to this back.

Gijakzi glared at Geth, who stood, stunned, staring at the smith. "You fuckin' touch 'er again," Gijakzi growled, "and I'l tear ya ta fuckin' pieces."

"You wouldn't dare," Geth hissed.

Gijakzi snapped the whip forward again and caught Geth across the chest. "You even think about snitchin'," the goblin said calmly and stood to his full height, advancing on the outlaw, "and I'll let the _Master_ know you're screwin' around with shit down here... actin' like you run the place. _He_ runs the place, an' he's the only fucker I got ta listen to. Now cock off, you _tark pushdug_." Geth eased back, away from Gijakzi, with a furious expression before turning and heading back out the way he came in. Gijakzi spared Sogar a withering look, and she hurried down the hallway as well, even though, technically, she was off duty.

Gijakzi turned and retreated back the way he came, ignoring the curious looks from the orcesses that peeked at him from behind the curtains to their rooms as he passed. Katag stood and followed him quietly, waiting until they were beyond prying ears to speak to him. "How'd ya know I'd need your help?" she asked his back.

Gijakzi shrugged, an odd gesture when he was on all fours. "Didn't," he admitted. "Shit got done at a decent hour fer once. Thought I'd see what ya were up ta."

Feeling a little thrill, Dezek smiled at his profile. "The forge empty?" she asked with a fanged grin. Gijakzi smirked at her. "I gotta check on a few things," she told him.

Gijakzi nodded with a quiet smile, and Katag smiled as well. His face was much more inviting when he smiled genuinely. "I'll leave the doors open fer ya," he whispered, and hurried ahead.

* * *

The first thing Katag did was check on Bidush. The orcess slept comfortably on her straw bedding, _alone_, and Katag breathed a sigh of relief. The next thing she did was check on Geth's whereabouts. One of the male guards, an impossibly huge Angmar lad, informed her that "the little hairy man" had gone to his room, the one provided by the wizard, and Katag felt relatively safe about retiring for a few hours. She needed to be up early with the first watch, but she felt a little time with Gijakzi couldn't hurt. She hadn't spent much time with him at all over the last few months, and she felt they were well past overdue. Besides, he woke far earlier than her, and would make sure she didn't oversleep. Feeling a little giddy, Katag headed towards the forge. Her relationship with the head smith had started as roughly as everyone else's. Katag knew, if she worked under him, she would have despised him, but she found working beside him was not so unbearable.

Since she arrived in Orthanc ten years prior, the pair of them had developed a good report. It began, oddly enough, when she came to the forge requesting tools. What she had been given had not been adequate. She needed needles of various sizes for stitches and small knives for surgeries and blades that could cut through a female without harming the babe. That had been the tool that Gijakzi had sneered at. "Plan on butcherin' em?" he had growled.

Katag had never been so insulted. Of course she did not plan on butchering them, but what did he expect her to do? Allow the mother _and_ child to die? None of them had any choice in this matter, and if Katag could have stayed at home with her tribe, seeing to young born in a normal fashion she would have, but she was called to Isengard, and she would do all she could to help the females here.

She had told him as much, but with more cursing and indignation. After all, she didn't tell him how to forge steel, who was he to tell her how to tend to females? Gijakzi had scowled at her and waved her away, but in a week he had delivered several sets of fine, thin, steel needles and a few dozen tiny blades for surgeries. The long knife he only made one of. He placed it into her palm with a somber, serious expression. "You use this one the least," he had told her, "an' I hope ya don't need ta use it at all."

The furnaces had been banked for the night, but the forge was still impossibly warm, and Katag understood why Gijakzi did not need more than a light blanket when he slept. She found him lying on the bed, reading a small book by candlelight. His head was resting on his hand as he laid on his side, his attention caught up in the words on the page. Katag did not know many letters herself, and the few she did know she had learned from Gijakzi.

"Glad ta see ya made it," he smirked rakishly as he glanced up at her. Katag pulled the book from his hand, blew out the candle and crawled into bed with him.


	5. Masters and Uruks

**The Black Heart**

**Chapter Five: Masters and Uruks**

**AN:** It's a short chapter this go around. I decided to cut this out of the next section because I really wanted to update this story. We'll have a good long one when I get around to chapter 6. Also, I am not sure I am ready to write Geth yet, and there's quite a bit of Geth in the next chapter.

* * *

Wriggling herself comfortable, Katag realized she was alone in bed. Gijakzi slept on a narrow pallet on an even narrower shelf directly aside his drawing table. When she realized her lover wasn't half draped over her in the way they usually squished onto the sparse bed, she opened one, weary eye.

Gijakzi was a few feet in front of her, perched on his stool. His metal pen made regular _scritch, scritch, scritching_ noises along the thin leafs of paper in front of him. She smiled slightly at the sight of his profile, his deep set, pale eyes focused intently on the work in front of him. To his right, he slid the bright beads of a counting box back and forth, making calculations. When she had first started sleeping with him, Katag had no idea what half of the instruments strewn across his desk were for. Now, she felt as though she knew them as intimately as her own. Knowing Gijakzi was knowing his profession, and he was always more than happy to answer any question she had regarding his work. It was an obvious source of pride for him.

Stretching, Katag casually propped herself on her side, resting her cheek on her hand. "Do I need ta be up?" she asked lazily.

"Nar," Gijakzi rumbled. "Gruz ain't even in yet."

Katag patted the space next to her. "Do _you_ need ta be up yet?" she said suggestively.

"I always need ta be up," he grumbled. Gijakzi glanced at her from over his shoulder, his yellow eyes roaming up and down her naked body. Though his desire was easy to read, she honestly didn't expect him to join her. Once he started working, it was impossible to get his mind on anything else. So, Katag was a little startled when he dropped his stylus on the pen rest and swung onto the pallet with the easy grace she always associated with him. She felt a little thrill as he settled behind her and began grazing her shoulders and the nape of her neck with slow, light nips.

Katag tilted her head, baring her neck to him, and let Gijakzi do as he liked. One of Gijakzi's better qualities was his thoroughness, and that trait extended to all things, as though there was nothing he could not exceed at. By the time he had rolled off of her, Katag was panting and shaking and completely sated a few times over. The goblin smith pulled her against his chest as he relaxed against the wall, his head half pillowed on her breast. Katag sighed and ran her claws through the messy tuft of curly hair on top of his head while he dozed lightly.

"What're ya workin' on," she asked him casually. What he was working on was an easy topic of conversation. Their Master certainly kept him busy.

"Extendin' the dens below," he said with a yawn and rubbed his face tiredly. "Gotta find a way ta make 'at work without the whole place collapsin' in on itself."

Katag frowned at that. Gijakzi was very intelligent, probably more so than any orc Katag had ever met, but knowing that her life was dependent on his calculations was a little unnerving. What if he put the wrong number in the wrong place? Or the _right_ number in the wrong place? "Sounds hard," she said quietly.

"_Sha,_" Gijakzi grinned cheekily, "scared I'm gonna screw somethin' up are ya? Bring the whole place down on us?"

Katag laughed uneasily. "'Course I ain't."

Leaning in on her, his smile widened into something decidedly disquieting. "Maybe I will," he sneered. "Crush that crop a _baalak_ runts He 'as growin' down there."

Swallowing nervously, Katag frowned. "Gijakzi..."

He laughed and slapped her hard on the thigh, his expression cheering. "Silly bint," he chuckled. "Don't you worry yer pretty head. The ceiling'll stay right where it should." Cocking his head to the side, Gijakzi regarded her thoughtfully. "What're they like, them half-man brats?"

That gave her pause. Gijakzi was usually not terribly interested in the work she did, or the progeny of the breeding females. "Big," she told him. "Ev'n the lil' ones are fucking huge."

"Hn," the smith snorted. "Them Angmar folk're plenty big; part troll, I hear."

"Dunno 'bout part troll, but their sprogs're fuckin' beasts. Master dotes on 'em. He's down there near every day tellin' 'em what fine orcs they is." Katag snorted. "He calls 'em his fightin' Uruk hai."

Gijakzi hissed, sneering. "Uruk hai, _sha_! Aren't we _all_?"

Katag rolled her eyes. "_Garn_," she grumbled, "they get the best leavin's too. Where ya think all them dead dams go to when they've done an' had their last sprog?"

"Even the orc girls?" Gijakzi asked, sounding uneasy.

Katag nodded. "Little fucks get the first go at the hunts, an' the tributes them Dunlendings bring in too. Master's little joys, that mean lot."

"Meanwhile, it's gristle an' gruel fer the rest of us _snaga_." a growl rumbled in the back of Gijakzi's throat. "Fuckin' troll shit, that."

"He has us raisin' em like they're tribe," Katag said quietly. "Want's 'em ta' think like 'at. Them as this fine, special tribe an' Him as their Chief. It's odd, it is. They don't look at Him like their Master, they _call_ 'im Master, but they look at 'im like He's their good ol' granddad 're somethin'. Like they adore 'im. It's kinda creepy."

Katag had drifted a little, remembering the last time she saw The Wizard in the dens below. The young _Uruk hai_ had rushed to him as though they missed him, and he had promised the little males something special, though he hadn't been specific as to what that was. When she looked up, Katag realized Gijakzi was staring at her, his lips pursed and his brow furrowed. "Sure _sounds_ creepy," he admitted.

"Eh," Katag sniffed. "The folk in them dwarf tunnels are like 'at wit' His Lordship down there."

"I'd be real adorin' too, if my Master was a giant fucking fiery cunt," Gijakzi mumbled.

They hadn't had a long talk like this in a while, and Katag decided to ask him something she always wondered. "Yer from Mordor," she started and Gijakzi's brow rose at her. "What I mean is, the Eye," her voice lowered to a whisper, as if she was afraid her far-away Master would hear her, "He's there, an' I was wonderin'... well... have you ever seen Him?"

Huffing, Gijakzi wrinkled his nose, a look of annoyance on his face. "E'ry night when I'm sleepin'," he said dryly, and eyed Katag thoughtfully. "That ain't whatcha mean though, is it? We all sees Him in our sleep." Katag nodded quietly, sensing he had more to say. Gijakzi nodded somberly. "I seen Him," he told her quietly.

"When?" she breathed, fascinated. Katag felt the presence of the Shadow always, all orcs did, and she always wondered... What was He like, their Master? Powerful indeed, she imagined. Powerful enough to rule the whole World. Certainly, a greater Being than the wiry old Wizard they had to take flack from. After all, the Wizard was just as much His servant as they were. All served the Shadow, and all _would_ serve the Shadow, one day. One day, the orcs would be rewarded for their loyalty, when the race of Men cowered before them. Then, all their hard work, all their sacrifices, would be worth it. She stared at Gijakzi with intense fascination, hoping he would elaborate.

Gijakzi sighed and rubbed his face. "When I were sent here," he said at last. "You'd think some bloke'd give me my marchin' orders an' I'd be off, but it were me an' three others called up." A haunted look came over his face, and Katag felt her heart jump into her throat.

"Can't say I saw 'im proper, that is, there's this big throne room at the top a Lugbúrz, and the whole back a it is pitch black, like a livin shadow, rollin' an' coilin' in on itself." Gijakzi swallowed roughly with a shudder. "It felt like someone pulled out everythin' at made me what I is and spread it bare ta look at, like I 'ad nothin' 'at were mine." The orc smith scowled angrily. It seemed to Katag that he struggled with something, growling low in his throat, but the scowl passed and Gijakzi breathed a shuddering sigh, his eyes settling on her. "Then, I were sent ta come 'ere. Ne'er did find out what happened ta them other blokes up fer it."

"That sounds amazin'," Katag said wistfully.

A disgusted look came over Gijakzi as his eyes roamed the unadulterated adoration on her face. "It were fuckin' _bullshit_," he growled, sitting up and leaning away from her as though she were something vile. "I don't need no one pokin' around my _soul_ ta see I were best fer the job. Already helped ta rebuild the ruins in Mordor proper by then. The pits in Lugbúrz wouldn't e'en _be there_ if I hadn't planned them out! Any stupid fuck could see I knew what I were doin'."

Rising to his feet, Gijakzi made the easy hop onto his stool, glaring at her. "Lords an' Masters, _skai_! I remember a time there weren't no _shadow_ ta bugger us, callin' us outta our fathers' holes, mucking up everythin' with their orders an' proclamations an' creepy plans; when I didn't 'ave ta get dragged through stinking, _tark_ territory just ta help some scrawny, old fuck wipe 'is prim, white arse!" Gijakzi spat on the floor, and Katag sat up, glancing around anxiously. He shouldn't be talking like this!

"You stupid young fools!" Gijakzi pointed an accusing finger at her and Katag cringed. "You don't fucking know anythin'! Think he's givin' ya the world, do ya? Think He's gonna make plates a meat drop outta the sky? That you'll be fat an' happy fer all the hell we're bein' put through? Is that the stupid shit you 'ave goin' through yer empty head?"

An angry scowl marred Katag's face. "Oi!" she growled. "Who the fuck're you callin' stupid, ya nasty ol' goat?" She rose from the pallet and tugged on her clothes, growling. "Uppity _sharkû_ shit, walkin' around like you fucking know _everything_! Think yer better than all of us do ya? It must be hard ta see, lookin' down that fat nose a yers all the time!" She whirled on him, shoving him hard in the shoulder. "Piss of, Gijakzi!" He looked affronted, but fuck him! She didn't have to take his mightier than thou, arrogant crap. She had her own work to do, and the last thing she needed was to worry about Gijakzi and his constant, snide attitude.

The iron doors of the forge creaked open, and Katag stomped past Gruz as he walked in, a bewildered look on his face. "Mornin' Katag," he greeted as she stormed past. Swallowing hard, Gruz crept up to the tense form of Gijakzi as he scribbled furiously on his blueprints. "Oi boss," the small goblin said conversationally, "trouble with the missus?"

Gijakzi glared at him and Gruz tried to make himself as small as possible. "I'll jus' get them fires started," the round eyed goblin said with an anxious laugh.

"You do that," Gijakzi rumbled, eyes narrowing, and Gruz scurried towards the furnaces, rushing to stoke the fires that had been banked for the night.

Frowning, Gijakzi was vaguely aware of Gruz fumbling around the forge. What the hell had he been writing just now? Gijakzi reexamined the hastily written words he'd just jotted down and scowled. All nonsense! He began crossing out the hurried scribbles with neat, precise lines.

He shouldn't have been so rough on her. Katag was young. Younger, even, than Gijakzi was when he first heard the call. He had been just as fervent about his service to The Eye then, just as optimistic in the future of his people. Leaving his homeland, traveling to the black plains of Mordor, that had all seemed worth it.

He should have known the moment he passed through the plains of Northern Nûrn what lay in store for him and his clan. _Barshau_, they called that region. The Plains of the Whispering Grass, where the tall stalks blew in the wind, and for miles upon miles there was nothing but soft swishing. His _shaûk_ had been from that region, and when she saw the earth tilled over, being worked by hundreds of _snaga_ men as they sowed the grain to feed the Mordor armies, she'd wept miserably. Gijakzi remembered his words to Korklûb and his young daughter, Hinagir, who didn't understand why they had to leave their cliffs by the sea. He told them it would all be worth it, when the kingdoms of Men bowed before them.

What a load of shit that was, and Gijakzi couldn't remember why he'd even thought it in the first place. Getting one over on the _tarks_ was all well and good for these Northern folk, who were stupid enough to settle right in the midst of them, or for those big, soldier Uruk of the Ash Mountains, who spent most of their lives looking for trouble, but Gijakzi and his kin came from a region devoid of men. Those slaves sent to till the fields were the fist men his _shaûk_ and daughter had ever seen, and a more pathetic lot you couldn't hope to meet.

_Snaga_ he was called now, and Gijakzi hated it. A slave indeed! As though it took any great skill to wield a sword. All you needed was an arm and a load of foolish bravado. Gijakzi had spent most of his adolescence and young adulthood traveling in the East, learning from skilled orcish smiths and mannish smiths in Khand. Gijakzi was no _slave_. No Uruk fuck could do half of the shit he could! A bunch of empty headed grunts who didn't know the worth of the blades in their hands. Fucking Uruks.

But he should make it up to Katag. She was a small glimmer in this slag pile, a sharp mind and a nice arse, and she put up with his shit. Only Korklûb had bothered with that. It was why he had called her _shaûk _in the first place. A good, long while had passed since he felt the kind of spark he felt with Isengard's head midwife, like there was some point to all of this madness. He hadn't felt that way since he lost his _shaûk, _and then his daughter, to the breeding pits decades ago.

The rest of his staff was filing in, and Gijakzi rubbed his face tiredly. He was so worn down lately, he felt, sometimes, as though he could sleep for a hundred years. He wouldn't have time to make amends with Katag today, and probably not tomorrow either. The goodly Master wanted his first generation of _Uruk hai _males fitted for armor, so Gijakzi was due down in the dens to fit the half man shits for mail and weapons. What crap. An orc should kill a bloke for his first set of armor, not sit primly for a fitting. Pansy, cunt Uruk hai. Gijakzi hadn't even seen one yet, and he didn't like them already.

* * *

**Translations**

**shaûk: **For those of you that have read _Splint_, this term should be fairly familiar. It refers to a life companion, but not, necessarily, in the same way that we would consider a spouse. My orcs are not, by nature, monogamous, so a _shaûk_ is defined by loyalty and respect and not fidelity. For a race that is generally untrusting, this is considered the closest relationship you can have with another orc, even more so than blood kin.

**snaga****:** slave

**uruk** **hai:** This translates, literally, to "uruk people", uruk being the Black Speech word for orc.


End file.
